Snake Venom
by rayvern
Summary: AU fic. what if things turned out differently on that fateful Halloween night? Voldemort, instead of killing Harry, took him away.
1. chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me. Disclaimer included. =p

Speech - " … "

Thoughts - _italics _(except for actual spell incantation which is supposed to be capitalized and italicized)

Parseltongue - // … //

The moon shone dimly in the pitch-black sky, emitting weak rays of light. Darkness, the perfect cover for predators to strike, it is when Death Eaters gather. Screams filled the air, but the trees surrounding serves as a sound barrier, muffling it, confining it within the clearing. A man lay writhing on the forest floor in pain, in the middle of a circle of hooded wizards, all wearing black cloaks and white masks. They were unmoved by his pleads and screams, but the one with pale skin and crimson eyes seemed to take pleasure in his torture, watching not the screaming man, but the reactions of his followers. He finally lifted the curse, and hissed, "That was just a taste of what I do to incompetent fools. Do not disappoint me again."

Avery got up painfully, and bent to kiss hem of his master's robes. "Yes, my Lord," he said weakly and then took his place in the circle once again.

The Dark Lord looked at each and every one of his followers before speaking. "We are close to our goal of purifying the wizarding world of muggles, of controlling those weaklings. The ministry is incompetent, governed by fools. It will not be long until they fall. However, Dumbledore and his muggle-loving followers are opposing us at every turn. Especially one James Potter who has uncovered several attacks and captured at least 26 Death Eaters just in the last raid. This is intolerable! But no matter, he has signed his death warrant the moment he chose to oppose me." He smiled maliciously. "A certain faithful rat has told me where they are hiding under the Fidelius Charm. It's time we pay him a visit."

It was Halloween. James and Lily were relaxing in the front room after dinner, their son, Harry, was already asleep and tucked in his little cot. Their hands were entwined, and Lily rested her head on James' shoulders. It was a peaceful night. Or seemed like it. 

Somehow James could not shake off the ominous feeling that something is going to happen. Then he felt it. The wards protecting the house, it was being broken down, weakening. 

"Lily! I want you to go upstairs to Harry. Stay in the room. If you hear anything -"

Crash. The door was blasted open. 

James hurriedly pushed Lily towards the stairs. "Go! It's him! Take Harry and run! I'll hold him off." Lily stared at him with wide eyes, hesitating. "Go!" 

She stumbled up the stairs, fear blinding her. _Harry. I have to keep Harry safe._

Lily heard more crashes and spells casting downstairs. Shouting. Screams. Silence. 

__

No! Not James. James…Silent tears fell, but fear kept the grief at bay. Fear. For her child's life. Footsteps echoed behind as the Death Eaters searched the place.

She burst into the nursery, picked Harry up from his cot and hugged him to her chest tightly, her back to the door. 

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" a sneer came from behind, and Lily froze.

She gasped as a hand yanked at her hair suddenly, forcing her to look into the white mask of the Death Eater. His lips curled humorlessly as he saw the apparent terror in her face. 

"Well, hello Mrs Potter. Aren't you a pretty thing? My Lord will be pleased."

Lily shrank back in revulsion but his grip forced her to move as he dragged her down the stairs. The front room was a wreck, and James' body lay still near the wall at the other end, amidst shattered glass. Several Death Eaters stood before one similarly dressed man. Except he did not wear a mask.

"My Lord." The Death Eater bowed before the man. "I found her upstairs."

The Dark Lord lifted Lily's chin with a finger, his cold red eyes inspecting her like one would inspect an animal. Lily flinched at his touch, but he only smiled chilly and released her. She was caught off balanced and fell backward. His attention shifted to the baby cradled in her arms. 

"_Accio_!"

"No! Not Harry!" Lily tried to grab her child from him but two hands were restraining her, one Death Eater on each side.

"Please, don't hurt him! I'll- I'll do anything!"

The Dark Lord pretended to reconsider. "Very well. Kill your husband."

"I- I can't… please… don't-" Lily was torn between the two choices.

Voldemort set the baby down on the sofa. "Who do you want to save? Him?" he pointed his wand at the unconscious James, "Or your child?" 

Lily had no answer, only saying, "Please… have mercy…"

Voldemort only laughed cruelly. "Since you can't make up your mind, I shall decide then. "

He raised his wand at the baby, "_Avada_ -"

"No!" Lily broke free of her restrains and rushed forward to shield Harry.

"- _Kedavra_!" A flash of green light rushed towards Lily, blinding her, enveloping her, killing her.

__

Silly girl. Your husband was already dead.

He turned to his watching followers. "Why did you let her get free?"

The two Death Eaters fell to their knees and started to placate their Lord. "Forgive me… sorry my Lord… won't happen again…" 

"_Crucio_!" 

Painful screams. 

Then heavy breathing as they tried to recover from the bout of torture.

"There will be no next time." It was a warning, and a dismissal.

"Yes, yes, my Lord." They hurriedly scrambled to their feet and each disappeared with the sound of swishing cloaks as they Apparated away.

Voldemort turned towards to baby, still debating what to do with him. Usually he would just kill everyone in the family, but there was something different about the child. He could feel it.

"_Serpensortia_!" a green and white diamond backed snake shot out of the end of the wand. 

The snake turned to him and he hissed //go to the child. Tell me what you sense. //

The snake obeyed and slithered forth, hissing and coiling loosely around the child, flicking out its tongue, tasting, sensing. The child only looked through his bright green eyes at the snake, not at all afraid, instead seemed fascinated with the snake, stretching out his tiny hands towards the snake, wanting to touch it. 

Voldemort looked at this display in interest, the way the child and snake interacted. 

__

An unusual child. Still not crying, after all that happened, not even a sound. Most babies would have been wailing away, but this child… 

//what do you sense?// Voldemort was growing impatient.

//power.// the snake hissed.

//dark or light?//

The snake circled the child, and flicked its tongue out to touch his nose. The child giggled in delight. 

//pretty.//

//what?// _That sounded different_.

//the child can Speak.// the snake finally answered.

Voldemort was shocked, but he heard it again. 

//pretty.// 

It did not come from either the snake or himself; the only possibility was from the child.

//dark or light?// he asked again.

//he is still young.//

__

There is potential then… interesting turn of events. The Dark Lord waved his wand and the snake vanished in a small puff of green smoke. He scrutinized the child carefully before making up his mind and picked up the child. Surveying the damage then staring at the child thoughtfully, he cast a few more spells and Disapparated. 

A/n: another AU fic. Not exactly original but well, I'm not the most creative person. *shrugs* Anyway, whether you like it or hate it, I would appreciate it if you review. Constructive criticism and suggestions welcomed. By the way, should I do some growing up years or skip straight to about 9 or 10 years later? Will be changing Harry's name but I need suggestions. Salazar seems too cliché. 


	2. chapter 2

Speech - " … "

Thoughts - _italics _

The flames licked playfully at the outer layer of the house, becoming more deadly as the heat increased in intensity, almost swallowing the house whole, engulfing it in bright orange. Smoke rose to the air, clouding the clear night sky and spread even further as a chill wind swept across the land. But it could not cloud the vivid green of the glowing skull blazing in a haze of greenish smoke in the sky above the house, a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. 

A low rumbling sound steadily grew louder and swelled to a roar as a huge motorcycle hovered lower, finally landing outside the ruins of the cottage. The rider clambered off hurriedly, staring in disbelief at the sight that greeted him.

"No!" he cried in anguish. "James! Lily! Harry!"

He muttered a fire-extinguishing spell and frantically worked through the crumbling ruins, not wanting to believe that his friends were dead. He would not believe it. Not until he saw the bodies. They couldn't be-

But nothing was recognizable. Everything was burnt and charred, smoldering embers of all that remained. Even if their bodies could be found, it would be nothing more than charred flesh and ashes. He sank to his knees, burying his head in his scorched hands as unbearable grief consumed him.

"Sorry, so sorry… all my fault… my fault…I'm sorry… James…" he rocked back and forth, muttering and crying alternately.

Then his blue eyes flashed violently and he clenched his hands. His voice turned soft and deadly as he hissed, "Peter. You traitor!" 

"Sirius?"

He quickly wiped his eyes and turned around. "Hagrid," he said roughly. "How did you know-"

"Dumbledore sent me. Poor James an' Lily. It's a righ' mess."

"I can't believe they are gone." Sirius said softly, as if talking to himself.

Hagrid put his hand on Sirius's shoulder comfortingly, "I'm sorry for yer loss. They were great people."

"Yes, they were…" Sirius stared into the distance then seemed to snap out of it. "There's something I need to take care of, you can use my bike to get back to Hogwarts."

"Don' yeh need it?"

"I won't need it anymore," he said with a bitter smile, eyes of blue steel.

Then he Disapparated, leaving behind the hissing of the dying flames and the smoldering remains of the house.

Peter wasn't at his house. Of course the traitor would have fled. But he didn't know he had put a tracking charm on him. 

Sirius took out a small glass globe from his pocket. "_Revealis_," he said, waving his wand over object. Misty grey smoke gathered and swirled for a few moments before clearing to reveal a short, slightly plump man with colourless hair and small eyes. He was walking briskly on a pavement, glancing around nervously every few minutes. A street sign flashed past to his right as he turned at a junction. Cheshire Street. 

"It won't be long now 'til you're avenged, James," Sirius whispered before Apparating to muggle London.

He appeared at the junction he saw in the glass globe just in time to see Peter disappear around a corner 3 blocks down. He ran after Peter, ignoring the indignant shouts of "Hey!" and "How rude!" as he pushed past the muggles. Sirius reached the alley and was looking around for Peter when the traitor stepped out behind him.

A quiet "Padfoot" made Sirius turn around immediately. Peter looked afraid, but also strangely determined.

"Don't call me that!" he hissed. "You have no right! You traitor!" Sirius spat, stepping towards him menacingly, gripping his wand in his right hand.

"I'm sorry Sirius," Peter whispered, "but you forced me to do this." He sounded desperate and a little regretful.

Sirius opened his mouth in disbelief. "I forced you? What are you-"

Peter raised his voice, screaming hysterically at him, "You betrayed them! Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?" 

"How dare you!" Sirius started angrily, almost shaking with rage. "You were the one who-"

But he didn't get to finish as the whole street behind Peter blew up suddenly, the screams and sounds of explosion deafening. Sirius was stunned; he hadn't cast any spell, although his wand had been raised and pointing at Peter. He looked around and saw extent of the damage done. He was standing a few feet from the edge of a crater, which was formed in the middle of the street as a result of the explosion. The burst sewage pipes below were spurting water all over the place, muggles were running around and screaming in panic, and many bodies were littered about the street beyond the crater. There were even parts of the bodies scattered around, a severed arm over here, a detached leg over there, lying in a spreading pool of blood. He could see the torn muscles and some white that was exposed bone. 

But Peter was no where to be seen. There was nothing except for a heap of bloodstained robes where he had stood.

Looking down at his blood splattered robes and the bloody scene before him, Sirius felt the bile raising in his throat. 

__

Peter.

That rat.

He should have been a bloody Slytherin.

Sirius laughed suddenly, staring blindly at the crimson filled street. He laughed at his stupidity for trusting Peter. He laughed at his blindness for not seeing his duplicity before. He laughed at the predicament he was in. A high appalling sound, ringing through the air. 

__

He'd have a hard time getting out of this one.

There were several 'pop' sounds as Hit Wizards Apparated to the scene. Most of them looked horrified and revolted at the scene, averting their eyes from the various severed body parts and bodies, instead focusing on the black-haired man who was standing in the middle the chaos, laughing hysterically.

"Sirius Black, you are under arrest by the Magical Law Enforcement Squad for…" 

He did not hear what the Hit Wizard said, looking right through them as peals after peals of chilling laughter escaped him. It's like the sound of long nails scratching the blackboard, high-pitched and ghastly, sending involuntary shivers down the spine, causing everyone to shudder.

The Hit Wizards approached him cautiously, wary of his abilities as a Dark wizard, coupled with his apparent unstable state of mind. One of them finally worked up the nerve to stun him and he fell backwards as the red light struck him, frozen in laughter.

So Sirius Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, imprisoned in Azkaban without a trial.

He stopped laughing.

Thanks to all reviewers: **Star Mage, JediHermione, Jarvey, Jolie, Porcelain Princess, npetrenko, Snape-Slytherinking, White Rider, Bridget McKennitt, thinker, Remmy, sys, lollipozz, Tara-Yo, SafireMoon, noraseyes**

AlienSmile13 I haven't exactly thought about it. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. 

****

ReflectionsOfReality I think it will be in between father/son and lord/heir.

****

Jenny I can't exactly answer your question now, just that there will be some twists.

****

DoomSpell thanks, both for your interesting suggestion and compliment. Will attempt it, or perhaps write a mix of both.

A/n: Still thinking of a name for Harry and I desperately need suggestions. Salazar just seems too cliché. But if you don't mind the over used name then Harry will be renamed Salazar. Hope not though, because it will be too obvious if he goes to Hogwarts.

Feel free to correct any mistakes you've spotted.


	3. chapter 3

Light from the fire cast shadows on the carpet and played with the dark hair of a small boy sitting in the couch, sometimes making streaks of red appear. The couch seemed too big for the child, dwarfing the figure further. All was quiet except for the occasional crackling of the fire that sizzled and sparked when wood, appearing out of nowhere, was added to it, and the rustling of pages.  
  
The boy turned another page, then peeked at the man sitting in the other couch. He, too, had black hair, and could still be considered handsome, even with grey lining his temple and red eyes that were disconcerting to others. An elegant, charming man, persuasive and dynamic. A respected, feared figure, powerful and ruthless. But only here and with him, did he display love and benevolence. Hair fell softly over his forehead, but one could still see the creases as he frowned at the parchment he was perusing. The young boy sighed and set aside his book.  
  
"Father?"  
  
"Not now, Aiden."  
  
"You've been frowning at that for the past 15 minutes." Aiden perched on the arm of the couch, trying to peer at the parchment's contents.  
  
"Go to bed if you're tired then."  
  
"No, you hardly have time for me these days. I want to stay longer."  
  
"Nagini keeps you company," Father said absently.  
  
"I love her too, but it's not the same." Aiden looked down, his legs swinging idly and kicking the adjacent couch. There was no response and just as Aiden decided to give up and go to bed, an arm snaked round his waist, pulling him onto Father's lap. Father looked at him in amusement and hissed, "_Now don't you let her hear that or she'd come after me._"  
  
Aiden leaned back on him and replied in kind, "_You know she wouldn't. She loves us too much._"  
  
"_She spoils you too much,_" Father countered.  
  
Aiden just hummed and closed his eyes as Father stroked his back in a circular motion. The warmth was soothing and the sibilant tongue lulling. Aiden could hear the comforting rhythm of heart beating, their hearts beating, and he vaguely remembered there was something he wanted to ask but he couldn't remember exactly what it was. There was a sigh and some rustling, and a movement, a floating motion, and soft cool sheets.  
  
He wanted the warmth back.  
  
  
--oOo--  
  
  
Voldemort pried the child's arms from his neck and laid him on the bed, pulling the covers over him.  
  
"_You shouldn't do that._" A large snake slithered across the blue covers, and if a snake could look disapproving, this one certainly did.  
  
"_He was tired, and determined to stay up with me as long as possible._"  
  
"_He wanted to ask you something tonight._"  
  
"_I know._" Voldemort stared at the sleeping child, long pale fingers tracing down his faintly flush cheek. Aiden. The child of his enemy. The child of his heart. Who would have thought- He looked away abruptly and hissed to Nagini in parting, "_Take care of him._"  
  
"_I always take care of him,_" Nagini said reproachfully, as if she needed reminding.  
  
There was no reply and the room dimmed as the door closed soundlessly. Nagini slithered below the covers, staying near her charge and curling round comfortably, hissing lovingly to the sleeping child, "_I'll always take care of you._"  
  
She had come to see the child as her own offspring, although he was decidedly human, as was Tom. It started when Tom brought home that little bundle five winters ago and asked her to look after the child for that night, and from the next day on, just to keep an eye on the woman taking care of him. Nagini didn't expect to interact much with young Aiden but it changed when she found out that he, like Tom, could speak her language. Delight won over surprise, and the more she spoke and played with the child, the more she liked him. Perhaps it was her maternal instincts that made her volunteer to take care of Aiden when that silly woman died while trying to escape.  
  
Nagini sighed. Aiden was such a lovely child. She couldn't understand why the woman would rather leave than take care of him. Silly woman.  
  
  
--oOo--  
  
  
Voldemort was thinking and many thoughts crowded his mind, not least of which was the impending Azkaban attack. It was all planned, really, just some tricky details, like the Death Eaters to let in on the plan. There's a traitor in his ranks and this attack was important enough that he wanted to succeed on the first attempt. Otherwise it would just alert the enemy to keep a tighter watch over the prison, which would make it harder to break through the stronghold again.  
  
Many of his loyal followers were there, and they would be ready to stand by him again when they were free. The dementors had long been bought over to his side, his offer more attractive than just guarding the wizarding prison. And the Ministry still had no idea.  
  
Victory was very close. Oh yes, he could almost taste it.  
  
"My Lord," a female voice interrupted his musings.  
  
She's on time, as always, he noted. "Rise, Bella. We have much to discuss. Have a seat."  
  
"So," Voldemort said after she had settled into the chair opposite his, "what do you think of taking back Azkaban two weeks from now?"  
  
As Bellatrix's blue eyes light up with an unearthly gleam, there was no doubt in Voldemort's mind that he had chosen the right person for this job.  
  
--oO--  
  
'Everything is settled then.' Voldemort glanced at the clock on the wall, and realised that almost two hours had passed. "You may go. Remember, speak of this to no one. You'll be the first one I 'd blame if word gets out."  
  
Bellatrix smiled and said, "I wouldn't dare, my Lord. I'd look forward to it too much to ruin it."  
  
He rose and escorted her to the door, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand and said, with a rare smile and mirth in his eyes, "Then we shall look forward to victory together. Good night, mademoiselle."  
  
Bellatrix flushed with pleasure and averted her eyes, murmuring a 'Good night' and then left.  
  
Voldemort watched her go, feeling oddly amused. Bella's such a treasure. Loyal, powerful, intelligent, and widowed. Widowed… hmm…  
  
  
--oOo--  
  
  
Bellatrix stepped into her Lord's inner sanctum, wondering why she was summoned so soon after the meeting concerning the impending attack. And the place chosen has its significance. The Dark Lord do not usually discuss official Death Eater matters in his inner sanctum; that was what his public rooms were for, but contrary to its name, one still could not enter those rooms at will.  
  
"Father?" a decidedly childish voice called out and she turned in surprise. Curious green eyes stared at her beneath long black fringe, and the little boy cocked his head to the side, as if studying her. Finally, perhaps thinking that she seemed nice enough, he said, "Hello."  
  
The artless greeting was said so charmingly and she felt drawn to him, drawn to the radiating innocence and simplicity and- but what was a child doing in the Dark Lord's inner sanctum? The entrance was strictly guarded by wards and curses and animated poisonous snakes, besides the usual Dark creatures patrolling the corridors around the area. There was no way that a mere child could wander in by mistake; he would long be dead before then.  
  
"You're not supposed to be here," Bellatrix said, but her words were without heat. She bent down in front of the child to be leveled with him and gently pulled him forward. A part of her was entranced by his unconscious charm. Another part of her was demanding what the hell she was doing.  
  
"I'm not?" The child looked confused. "But Father told me to meet him here."  
  
He must be the son of some new Death Eater, she thought absently, stroking his soft hair. Only fools let their children run wild in the Dark Lord's manor. "I'm sure it's a mistake. You'd better go before the Dark Lord arrives."  
  
"But-" Suddenly he brightened and ran past her. "Father!"  
  
"You have no trouble getting here then?"   
  
That sounded really familiar but she couldn't place it just yet. The last of the enchantment fell away as she shook her head slightly to clear her mind. Her eyes widened when she realised just whom the little boy had called Father.  
  
"No. The lady was quite nice."  
  
"Is she?"   
  
The distinctly amused question was followed by approaching footsteps, and Bellatrix found herself accepting a hand from the Dark Lord to rise. She saw the smiling child standing beside her Lord and couldn't help letting her surprise show. But she didn't have to ask.  
  
"Hello Bella. I see you've met my son." He then turned and spoke to the boy, "Aiden, meet Bellatrix Lestrange."  
  
She was speechless, but managed to murmur something in assent when the child, with barely concealed laughter in his eyes, said properly, "It's a pleasure to meet you."  
  
There was no mention of an heir at all and she was very sure that none of the Death Eaters knew the Dark Lord had had a consort, much less a son who looked about five or six years old. It was too strange and if she didn't know better, she'd say that her Lord was amusing himself at her expense by pulling her leg. But the Dark Lord never 'pulls people's leg', so to speak.  
  
Bellatrix turned her attention to- what's his name?- Aiden, and he smiled shyly at her. Such a sweet, perfect boy. She wished she had a child just like- wait a minute- she hates children. They're pesky, irritating possessions that should be seen and not heard. She looked away from the too innocent image and immediately felt better, and more like her usual self. There must be some sort of compulsion charm on the child-  
  
"You're right, Bella." Her Lord sounded pleased.  
  
It was unsettling, the way he seemed to be able to read minds.  
  
"I don't understand," she said hesitantly. "Is he really your-"  
  
"To all purposes and intents, yes," he said sharply and by that tone, she knew there was to be no further discussions. But she already had her answer and was satisfied.   
  
"I will be away for a week and would like you to continue Aiden's lessons. I trust you will handle this appropriately."  
  
The message was clear: discretion is of utmost importance.   
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
"Do not change him, Bella," he said softly, ruffling the boy's already messy black hair.  
  
Then why are you asking me to teach him? But she didn't voice her thought, repeating, instead, her previous sentence, "Yes, my Lord."  
  
"Good. You may go."  
  
Bellatrix bowed and moved to the exit.  
  
"And, Bella?"  
  
She turned.  
  
"Because I trust you."  
  
That serious statement was the highest compliment a Death Eater could get. The boy must be precious to her Lord.  
  
And _she_ was the Dark Lord's most loyal and trusted follower.

==========

a/n: the format wouldn't show with breaks so I inserted things like –oOo—to make it clearer. I hope it's better now, though feel that it detracts a little from the effect I'd intended, but you can always read it on my livejournal(listed in my userinfo) with the proper formatting.


	4. chapter 4

The boy's lesson was to be held in her Lord's inner sanctum and Bellatrix had vague instructions to teach him potions and magical theory because the boy does not have a wand yet. She hoped the boy was halfway decent at the subject, for she has no patience for teaching imbeciles. But any chosen heir of her Lord shouldn't be too bad at magic. And if her Lord had been supervising his learning, he could be quite advanced. One has to consider his age though, and her Lord's strange affection for him and His instructions to not corrupt him.

At least the compulsion charm had been modified to not affect her. 

"Good morning, Mrs Lestrange."

The classroom setting gave her the feeling of being back in school again, eerily reminiscent of Hogwarts in the layout of identical brown tables and chairs, the stone slabs flooring, the teacher's desk in front and shelves of books lining the wall behind it. This, for one student and his 'relief teacher'. She wanted to laugh at how odd it seemed for her to be in a classroom teaching than to be down at the dungeons torturing prisoners for information, or just for her pleasure at hearing them scream and beg. Instead she merely said, "Good morning. I'll be teaching you Potions today. First just tell me how much you know."

"I've gone through theory of potion-making and properties of ingredients used in it, Common Potions and their Uses, Potions for Beginners Volume I to XII and Practical Potions up to level 5," Aiden paused for a while, "I think that's about it." 

Nothing interesting like torture potions and terrible poisons; everything was mild and acceptable to a child's impressionable mind. 

"Have you correctly brewed all the potions you've studied?"

"Yes, Mrs Lestrange."

"Right…" Bellatrix went over to the shelves and scanned the books until one title caught her eye: Dark Potions and their Uses. Perfect. 

"Let's do something interesting today. Pick a potion from this book and brew it and the antidote. There will be further instructions if you're successful."

She gave Aiden the book with a slight smile and watched him read. Sometimes his brows furrowed and he lightly took his lower lip between his teeth in an expression of earnest concentration. Sometimes his eyes widened marginally, whether in horror or fascination, she could only guess. Mostly though, he gave an air of scholarly curiosity that was so out of place in someone his age. 

Bellatrix did not have much experience with children. With the exception of a nephew she rarely visits these days, most of what she assumed to be true of children's behavior were from observations of targets and their families before an attack, or disdainful notice of muggle children when the need arose for her to venture into their world. And those children weren't too fond of books or learning, far preferring to spend their days indulging in toys and foolery.

Perhaps Aiden was just different. Perhaps, she mused, being the son and heir of the Dark Lord meant he had to be different.

Aiden had started to set up his cauldron and assembled the tools and ingredients needed. Powdered aconite, essence of belladonna, rat spleen, daisy roots, porcupine quills and hellebore. Toxic, neutral, catalytic, swift, undetectable… Risolenus Qes?

Extremely unpleasant. And one of her favourites.   

He placed the book on one of the side tables and set to preparing the ingredients, methodically chopping and crushing and weighing, setting each aside for later. Two cups of water and rat spleen to boil, stirring clockwise slowly. Turning down the fire when bubbles appeared and, still stirring, added powdered aconite gradually, setting it to simmer. The timer ticked softly as the boy mixed essence of belladonna with fluid extract of hellebore, stirring with a porcupine quill which effervesced as it dissolved. The chopped daisy roots met the same fate moments later and the mixture was swirled gently before it was allowed to settle. 

Not even a glance at the book during the process and no mistakes so far. Bellatrix was impressed.

Ten minutes of simmering was up and Aiden dropped four porcupine quills in an anti-clockwise direction, each at the four poles of the cauldron. It fizzed and turned a dirty green. 

One minute before the difficult part comes; control and timing is crucial. 

Adding the previously prepared mixture drop by drop every five seconds was not a problem, but to coordinate it with a complete round of anti-clockwise and clockwise stirring subsequently during the five seconds interval continuously was a bit tricky, and Bellatrix could see that Aiden was having difficulty. 

The potion gradually turned clearer and the green became lighter, almost colourless as the last drop of mixture was added. Aiden extinguished the fire and left it to cool. 

Very close, but not perfect; the potion should be colourless.

"Quite well done for a first attempt, though your stirring should be smoother and at the same speed throughout, especially during the last part. But don't worry, we'll have more practices." The encouragement sounded odd on her lips, but the delight was real when she said, "Now we'll test the potion."

Alarm was apparent in the boy and he looked so adorable that Bellatrix couldn't help ruffling his hair, laughing gaily, "No need to be anxious. You're not drinking it, just choosing a test subject. So do you have anything or anyone in mind?"

"Oh. But, erm…Mrs Lestrange, the effects are quite horrible and there's no antidote."  

"That's the ingenuity of Risolenus Qes." She sighed, "Well if you don't want to test it then we'll work on identifying your potion among others of similar appearances."

How disappointing. But Aiden looked a little relieved; a child who doesn't like to hurt creatures. And she thought humans were inherently cruel, especially children who had no idea of the cruelty they inflict on others by bullying and taunting those they dislike. Bellatrix could see how his innocence and artlessness might appeal to her Lord and endear him to Him.

"Yes, Mrs Lestrange."

Suddenly, she finds the formal address jarring, even though he had been calling her that for the whole morning. 

"You may call me Bella," she said softly.

Aiden was still hesitant. "It- seems disrespectful." 

She sighed inwardly. Few children cares about respect these days; he just had to be one of the rare entities. 

"Would I give you permission to be disrespectful?"

"No, Mrs Lestrange."

She glared at him for the formal address and he quickly corrected himself, "No, Bella."

"That's better." Her smile was genuine and she really did feel better, happier perhaps, as she explained the ways to identify potions by appearances, "Colour, clearness and viscosity of potion is the easiest to observe, followed by smell, touch, then taste. I wouldn't advise the last two if you're not extremely sure of the nature of the potion because it could harm you, examples include irritants, poisons-"

Maybe the compulsion charm has side effects after all.    

---ooOoo---

This is the night. 

Bellatrix surveyed the gathering Death Eaters through the eyeholes of her mask, and felt excitement bubbling in her. She cautioned herself not to be overly eager; there's always a time for things in their finalized plan. 

The Death Eaters had no idea what's the location of tonight's raid. They only knew that it would be big, judging by the number of those summoned, and were given the usual brief instructions to take out all Aurors and those fighting against them, and to meet back for debrief after the whole thing. 

5 minutes.

"Tonight's raid would be carried out in two phases. I need about 50 people to Apparate to Hogsmeade to meet up with the vampires, but do nothing until the Dark Mark burns. After that signal, I'm sure all of you know what to do. Who will go first?"

A few stepped forward, then more followed. 

"Good. Leave for Hogsmeade now."

Soft pops sounded as some left the meeting, but the majority was still present. And waiting.

There was a slight tingle of her Dark Mark, which meant the group at Hogsmeade had already started their attack. 

10 minutes.

 "Get into your usual groups and get a partner to cover your back for the raid. Alpha on my right."

They moved quickly, and Bellatrix continued after they have settled down. "You'll be moving off in groups and only attack after the Dark Mark burns. Delta first. Location: Azkaban."

Ah, pin-drop silence. She does so love to surprise people. 

Obviously no one thought that something as big as this would be dropped on them so suddenly, just minutes before the actual raid. 

"Well? What are you waiting for? Get going." Still, there was no movement. "Now!" she snapped. "I won't be responsible if the raid fails because of your tardiness."

That woke them up. If all else fails, threaten with failure and its consequences. She itched to curse them, and wondered if she could convince her Lord to let her discipline the new recruits before they are officially initiated. Really, those new recruits are hopeless when it comes to dealing with shock, the rashness and lack of control that comes with their youth a liability. But they'll learn soon.

"Gamma in 1 minute. Beta in 3. Alpha in 5. Alpha and Beta will deal with the reinforcements that the Light side may send." 

She prepared to Apparate as the last of the Death Eaters left, but a soft 'Bella' from her back halted her. Everyone had gone. She turned- and found a head floating in mid-air some distance away. 

"Aiden," she said, exasperated but could not bring herself to be angry with him. "You're not supposed to be here."

The rest of his body appeared as the invisibility cloak slid to the floor and she was caught unaware when he suddenly hugged her, his words slightly muffled by her robes. "Good luck."

Bellatrix petted his head hesitantly, unused to such sentiments from anyone. She could remember times long past when she still believed in luck and wishes and forever- no, she would not remember. "Thanks. I need to go."

Aiden stepped back and smiled, and Bellatrix Apparated, her last view one of a sweet green-eyed child wishing her good luck.

---ooOoo---

A scruffy black dog crouched in a corner of the bare space enclosed by three steel walls and a partial one where the door was located, as far as possible from the beams of light shining past the bars near the top of the door. It whined softly at the cold and emptiness that swamped its mind and retreated further into the corner, pushing against the wall futilely. Mere moments passed, and it looked up cautiously as the rattling sounds faded and hopelessness slowly loosened its grip. 

The dog sniffed. There was the usual acrid smell that permeated this place, and something else that it could not identify, a thickness in the air. The black did not linger today, and all was relatively quiet. Its ears moved a little, trying to catch the slightest scream or whimpering but heard only the scratching of rats in the pipes and the howl of a distant wolf.

A sudden influx of strange scents reached its nose, scents that did not belong to the Aurors guarding the place. The number of foreign scents kept increasing and after a while it gave up trying to identify them as they blended together, becoming just grey and darkness. There was none it recognised anyway. 

Then- its ears perked up- a cry of alarm, and chaos ensued. It lost track of what sounds it heard; spells and curses soon ran into one another, and loud blasts and explosions became a regular rhythm, the pained screams a highlight. 

The scruffy black dog was gone, in its place a scruffy black-haired man kneeling on the cold stone floor. He got up slowly and shuffled towards the door. 

They're coming.

He laughed mirthlessly. The Dark Lord had finally decided to take Azkaban. It certainly took him long enough. The Death Eaters imprisoned here must not have been as important as taking over the Wizarding world. Few Death Eaters were valued so highly, and those few would not be foolish enough to get caught or stay imprisoned. But he believed nothing and no one would ever be as important to the Dark Lord as power and control.

There is nothing he can do now but wait, and think, and plot. For revenge. For JamesandLilyandHarry. 

Sirius Black went back to his corner and sat, watching, and waiting. 

The sounds of battle were moving closer. And his cell was near the end of the endless series of cells that made up Azkaban. He hummed lightly to the backdrop of the ongoing battle just beyond the door, unbothered by the noise; the screams and shrieks weren't too different from those the dementors elicit from the prisoners everyday. 

The humming stopped. 

Something was scratching the stone floor.

A grey rat scampered past and his hand shot out, gripping the scared ball of fur tightly and bringing it to eye level. Beady black eyes stared at him and it squeaked pathetically. If he had compassion for rats, he would let it go. But he didn't, because a rat did not deserve compassion. So he squeezed, and squeezed. And afterwards stroked the soft furry coat, whispering, "Just a little while more, my sweet. Just a little while more." 

---ooOoo---

It has been quiet for some time now and he thinks the captured and injured Aurors would have either been put to death or torture, and the dead bodies gathered and burnt; the useful prisoners taken to the Dark Lord; the insane ones put out of their misery. And the innocent ones? He'll have to wait until they come for him.

"Reducto!"

He blinked at the sudden loud explosion and flying bits of metal, then shielded his eyes from the glaring light. It had not been this bright in years.

'Hello, cousin dearest,' a familiar figure stood in the illuminated doorway that was blasted open, her dark shadow falling over him. She drew off the hood that was partly shielding her face from view, revealing aristocratic Black good looks and long ebony hair that fell carelessly around her face.

Bella. She hasn't changed much. The years and the Dark Lord had treated her well, better than the white sheep of the Black Family. Or is it black sheep of the Black family, thus rendering it white? Double negatives were so confusing. He contemplated her and wondered if it was his good fortune that she was the one who came for him. This could very well turn out badly.

"Bella," he rasped, voice unused to speaking, and raw from screaming in the few years that he had been imprisoned in this god-forsaken cell with the dementors who made it even more hellish with their constant patrolling, sucking every happiness out of him and forcing him to relive his worst fears. 

"Oh you poor dear, forced to live like an animal in this little cell," she mocked. "Where are all your friends now, cousin?" she faked ignorance and paused, pretending to think. "Oh yes, I forgot," -an artificial gasp accompanying sudden revelation- "They were the ones who locked you in here." She laughed unpleasantly. "Some friends. Even your enemies would have been more merciful and granted you a quick death."

The words seared him and lit his anger. Because it was true. No, the years with the dementors had clouded his mind. His friends were dead. That rat was a traitor- 

Dumbledore wasn't, and he's not the senile old fool that some may think him to be.

Dumbledore could have vouched for him but he didn't. His Hogwarts' year mates could testify that he wasn't that kind of person, but they didn't. The Ministry could have given him a trial and Veritaserum, but they didn't. What did he get, working for the Light side, the right cause? His friends' deaths and a trip to Azkaban, complete with dementors. 

Bitterness didn't suit him. 

And injustice suits you?

No. 

No, it doesn't.

"Bella-"

"Don't call me that!" She advanced on him quickly, and Sirius found himself staring at the end of her wand, pointed threateningly between his eyes. 

"You gave up the right to call me by that name when you chose your brave and honourable Gryffindors over us, your family," she spat. 

"You chose them over our Lord. Over me." Her anger was gone as sudden as it came, turned to underlying hurt, and the wand lowered to her side.

Her voice turned to a whisper of dreamlike quality, a finger tracing along his dirty cheek to his jaw. "The noble and most ancient House of Black has always been the most powerful and pure amongst the other wizarding pure-blooded families, our knowledge and skills of the Dart Arts unrivaled. We could have been great together. You and I as our Lord's left and right hand." 

An unexpected hard slap left his cheek stinging painfully. "That was for choosing undeserving fools and cowards over me. And this-" 

Her raised hand was stopped by his grip on her wrist.

Sirius struggled to remember his native tongue, the language they had heard and spoken from cradle. The language that would perhaps snap Bella out of her resentment and make her listen to him.

"Ma belle," he started. 

It felt foreign to him, after so many years. But language is one of those things you don't forget, and he stopped trying to translate it, just letting the words flow, tasting smooth and rich on his tongue. 

"Je ne t'ai jamais oubliée. [I never forgot you.]" His hand slid past her wrist to her fingers and tugged her unresisting hand towards him, pressing his lips on her up-turned palm. He looked up with regret and said, "Je suis désolé de t'avoir rendue si malheureuse à cause d'une bêtise de jeunesse. [I'm sorry to make you so unhappy through my foolishness in youth.] Je vois qui est ma vraie famille maintenant. Et je me souviens. [I see who is my true family now. And I remember.]" 

His vision glazed over for a moment, suddenly lost in thought. "Toujours Pur, cousin," he said softly, then with renewed determination and fire, "I will get my revenge on them. Take me to see our Lord, Bella." 

"Comment puis-je savoir si ce que tu avances est vrai? [How do I know what you say is true?]" she asked suspiciously, although her tone was considerably softened. 

"'Do you think I still habour any love for them after what they did to me?" The question, so full of disgust and hatred, made Bellatrix smile, a demented twist of her lips, and set her blue eyes glittering.  

"I suppose there's no hurry to kill you. You first," she gestured towards the doorway. 

The choices he had made no longer apply, for there was no one worthwhile left to make him stick by them. Now at least, he would have his family and Bella back. They weren't James, but no one was ever or would ever be James… andlilyandharry. 

Just a little while more, my sweet. Just a little while more.

===========================

Just some questions for reviewers to help me know how clear my writing is in conveying what I want to put across: What do you think of 

-Aiden/Bella interaction? 

-Bella's characterisation?

-Sirius' state of mind/ motives?

-Sirius/Bella interaction/relationship?

Other comments and constructive criticism welcomed. Sorry for the shifting tenses, but it just seems 'right' for characters' thoughts and/or facts (thought to be true) to be in present tense. It would be much appreciated if anyone can clear up my misconceptions of past/present tense once and for all so I don't make the mistake again.

Eta: Many thanks to Darkmoon Fleur and SerpentClara for correcting the French translation and I apologize for the jarring effect it might have on others well-versed in French who had read the incorrect version. Frankly, I don't know much French and had got the part from an online translator. 


	5. chapter 5

There was no trace of fear in those grey eyes, not even an involuntary flinch when they met his piercing gaze. To show fear is to show weakness, and predators attack upon sensing weakness in their prey. Everybody knew that; Black just managed to apply it better than others who have faced him. Or maybe Black didn't have the common sense to fear him. Prolonged time spent with the dementors does tend to affect one's mental capabilities, and that's an understatement.

But Voldemort wasn't too concerned with that. His curiosity was piqued when Bella told him that Black wanted to see him, and that he seemed sane despite five years in Azkaban. He had wanted to recruit the promising young man a few years back, taking into account his bloodline and family loyalties, but Black had declined, quite rudely too, if he remembered correctly. Bella had said it wasn't worth his time punishing Black for his insolence; he would eventually meet a nasty end owing to his own foolhardiness, and penchant for antagonising and making enemies who could prove detrimental to his health. She had spoken with derision and scorn of Black's inability to know what's good for him, and Voldemort, amused by her anger on his behalf, had decided to let the transgression pass in favour of more important matters.

The slightly gaunt man kneeling before him looked nothing like a rash, arrogant Gryffindor. There was an air of calm and determination surrounding Black and, even in this humbling position, he gave off a sense of quiet pride in who he was, unbroken by his trials. A younger Black would never have knelt willingly, believing it to be demeaning and the ultimate surrender; the present Black retains his pride even as he surrenders. It seemed Black had changed for the better, but Voldemort doubted that his disillusionment with the Ministry of Magic and Order of the Phoenix was the main reason behind Black's decision to join him.

"Why do you want to join me now?"

"Because you have something I want."

Yes, he understands this sort of exchange: something he has for something he wants. But the Dark Lord does not grant requests lightly.

"What do you want?"

_The rat._

_Revenge._

"Power."

_To do what I need to do._

"Liar," Voldemort said softly, lifting Black's chin so that grey eyes meet his. "You want revenge."

"I want," Black closed his eyes briefly-

_I want them to cry as I have cried, scream as I have screamed, despair as I have despaired. _

_I want them to suffer as I have suffered._

-"justice," he said finally, his eyes glinting fiercely.

Black termed revenge as justice. Voldemort smiled at the twisted logic; he believed he liked Black already.

"Even if they are innocent?"

_Especially if they are innocent._

"Innocence does not mean anything to me."

_Innocence did not mean a damn thing to them._

Consumed by bitterness. Voldemort briefly wondered if it would be safe to have Black by his side, and if he was really sane. Coherence does not prove one's sanity.

But sanity does not prove one's usefulness either.

"We'll see. You will have to prove yourself worthy before the Circle accepts you. I demand no less of all my Death Eaters."

_What the pathetic mudblood can do, I can do it a thousand times better. I **will** do it a thousand times better. _

"I will not disappoint you, my Lord," he said, an underlying steel in his words.

"Time will tell."

---oO---

Sirius was still too weak to Apparate so Bella and he took a portkey back to 12 Grimmauld Place, appearing in the entrance hall. Everything seemed the same as when he left home; it was like he was never gone. He looked around slowly, hesitantly touching a nearby table, darkwood and smooth, afraid that it would all dissolve into nothing but the grey walls of his cell, becoming just another dream. But it didn't disappear. The table remained solid and real under his hand, the carpet still under his feet, the familiar portraits hanging on the wall. He noticed Bella observing him, her lips curving in a small smile.

"It's good to have you back, cousin."

This sounded more like the Bella he knew than the Bella who was the Dark Lord's loyal Death Eater. He smiled at her. "It's good to be back," he said softly. "I've missed this," indicating the house, "and you."

She brought her hand up to the side of his face, and caressed his cheek. "I've missed you too," she whispered.

They stared at each other for a long time, the silence thick with unspoken words and promises. Finally reaching an understanding, Bella broke eye contact and stepped back.

"I'm sure I don't have to give you a tour of the house. You can use back your old room; just get Kreacher to clean up a bit."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. We need to visit Aunt Rissa's portrait before you settle in, otherwise she'll throw a screaming fit everytime she sees you." Bella started towards said snoozing portrait and cleared her throat, "Hello, Aunt Rissa."

The portrait mumbled something rude and opened her eyes. "Oh it's you, dearie," her lips stretched into a semblance of a smile upon seeing Bella, but her expression rapidly turned ugly when she saw Sirius standing in the shadows beyond.

"You!" she accused, her face contorted in a mixture of rage and disbelief. "Bella, what is this blood traitor doing here? He is no longer a member of this family and I forbid him to go further than this hall and besmirch the house of Black with his notions of mudblood- "

"Fret not, Aunt Rissa," Bella interjected smoothly, "I would not even have allowed Sirius within 1 kilometre of this house if he still harboured mudblood sympathies. You know me better than that."

Mother glared at him, and turned to Bella with a softer gaze. "I know my sister brought you up to be better than that, dearie, but you've always had a soft spot for-"

"My loyalties are to my Lord and family," Bella emphasized, then, in an attempt to placate the portrait, added, "I would not go against your wishes if I did not think that Sirius has truly repented, and will make up for the disgrace he bought upon this house with greater deeds in the service of the Dark Lord."

Mother turned to him sharply. "You're joining the Dark Lord?"

"Yes."

"Where is your Mark?" she asked shrewdly.

"My Lord will not Mark me until I have proven myself."

"Then I'll only believe it when I've seen your Mark," she said coldly.

It was clear that Mother still didn't trust him.

She always did like Regulus better.

"I know I've done a lot of unacceptable things in the past and made you angry. I'm sorry. And I will make you proud of me again. I swear it."

Mother stared hard at him for a long time, and Sirius thought she wouldn't relent, but finally she said grudgingly, "Very well, you may stay. But make me regret this and Bella will personally see to your long and painful death."

It was that easy. Mother must be losing her touch.

"It won't happen," he promised.

He'll make sure it won't happen.

---oO---

Father was in a good mood. The raid must have been a success. But with Father's capability and thoroughness, Aiden hadn't expected any less.

"Another victory, Father?" he drawled.

"You have doubts of it?" Father asked, already knowing the answer, but just enjoying the easy banter.

Aiden smiled. "Of course not! How could it fail with the most powerful Dark Lord leading them?"

"Honey-tongued brat," Father said, ruffling his hair.

"It's the truth," Aiden said sincerely.

Father laughed. "Well, flattery has its reward. What do you want?"

"I really wasn't-"

"I know, Aiden. But isn't there something you've wanted for a long time?" he prompted.

Aiden thought for a while and his eyes widened. It can't be- "I can get a wand?" he asked hopefully.

Father nodded and Aiden flung himself at him, giving him a hug and a quick kiss. "You're the best, Father!"

"You'll regret saying that." Father sounded funny, with a sudden seriousness that seemed at odds with the earlier happy mood.

Aiden looked at him uncomprehendingly, but Father just smiled tightly and said, "It means you will have more work, learning spells and curses and dueling."

"I don't mind the work. I'll work hard and make you proud of me," Aiden said earnestly.

"You're a good boy, love," Father said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair back from his face. "We'll get your wand tomorrow after breakfast."

---oO---

He couldn't stand it sometimes, this innocence and trust Aiden still retained. The boy knew a little of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, his campaign to take over the Wizarding World and plans to restructure the Ministry, but the brutal reality of the raging war outside had not really touched him yet. He knew the day would come, when Aiden finally sees the world without this veil of illusion about the goodness of man.

And him getting his wand was the first step to growing up. Cruel as it might be, it was better that he be able protect himself from the dangers he was aware of than to be hurt in his innocence.

"Come on, Aiden. Stop staring," he said impatiently.

Diagon Ally was a ghost of its former bustle and colour. Where once it would have been teeming with wizards, witches and magical creatures alike, now it was deserted and lonely, clouded with a permanent grey fog, with an occasional cloaked figure passing by hurriedly, not daring to linger too long for fear of an attack or ambush. Most of the shops were boarded up, and further down one could see the damage incurred from past skirmishes, parts of the buildings burnt and caved in. Aiden stared with wide eyes and followed him closely, seemingly afraid of this oppressive and dismal atmosphere.

"Are you sure the shops are opened, Father?" he whispered, looking around.

"Most aren't, but the wand shop will definitely be open, unless the owner's dead."

They stopped at a narrow and shabby little shop, with a faded, chipped sign hanging in front -'Ollivander's -Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC'. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty, scratched window. It was the same as when he first came here, and he didn't think Ollivander would ever change the display.

There was a tinkling bell sound as they stepped into the shop, greeted by the sight of many narrow boxes lined side by side each other, stacked from floor to ceiling. It was nice to know some things never change, even in the midst of a war.

"Mr Riddle," Ollivander said, appearing from behind the counter, "I hope you're not on unpleasant business. I've just tidied up this place."

Voldemort stiffened and said curtly, "It's Lord Voldemort to you. And I'm here to get a wand."

If Aiden wasn't present, he'd-

"My apologies for assuming the worst, sir."

He noticed that the old man wasn't apologising for addressing him by that distasteful name.

Ollivander turned to Aiden and asked, "Which is your wand hand?"

"Right."

The old man rummaged for suitable wands, muttering under his breath about cores and length as magical measuring tapes slid along Aiden's arm and body. Voldemort watched as Aiden tried wand after wand only to have it snatched out of his hand and replaced with another, the monotonous routine broken by an occasional explosion or shattering of glass. He could see the boy was getting frustrated and a little apprehensive about not being able to find a suitable wand.

Voldemort glared at Ollivander but the old man remained oblivious, muttering about 'tricky customers' and 'interesting challenge'. Aiden waved yet another wand resignedly, but awe filled his face a moment later and Voldemort knew he had felt it, the instant connection between one and one's chosen wand, and a sense of completeness. The wand emitted white and blue sparks like dancing fireworks, and a gentle breeze blew across the room, carrying a scent of trees and rain.

Ollivander beamed and said, "Holly and unicorn tail hair, eleven inches, nice and supple. That would be seven Galleons."

Voldemort walked with him to the counter and handed him the money wordlessly.

"Thank you," Ollivander said with a glance at Aiden, "He looks like his parents."

Voldemort had expected that Ollivander would know Aiden's real identity; he was always a mysterious old man who seemed to know too much for his own good.

"I haven't noticed, but thanks for telling me," he said amiably while surreptitiously sliding his wand into his hand. "_Obliviate!_"

Ollivander's eyes glazed over and Voldemort whispered soothingly, "You never saw either of us today; the wand was sold to a muggle-born witch with black hair and brown eyes who had accidentally broken her wand." He probed the old man's mind and, satisfied that the memory was erased and the suggestion had taken root, pushed lightly to make him fall asleep.

He looked over at Aiden and was pleased that he had not noticed anything amiss as he had been busy examining his new wand.

"Come on Aiden. Let's go home."

==============================

Thanks to all reviewers: athenakitty, Kisuneko, SerpentClara, hazzagriff, chozen1, Misss Elizabeth, Ankalagon, tati1, Starr Light1, Jarvey, Emerald Tigriss, henriette, silversfall1, Tonnocal, Goddess of the Black Rose, mojo-jojo241; you've been very helpful. Sorry I didn't answer the questions but I wanted to post this chapter asap; I hope nobody minds. If there's any burning questions you'd like me to answer regarding any of my stories, you can always leave a comment on my livejournal (URL is on my user profile).

Just some questions for reviewers: What do you think of

- Sirius's characterisation/ motives?

- Sirius/ Bella interaction/ relationship?

- Voldemort/ Aiden interaction/ relationship? (believable or not realistic?)

- Voldemort's character? (is it too OOC?)

Other comments and constructive criticism welcomed, like what do you like / not like about this chapter, the characters, the writing etc. I also welcome suggestions on how to improve, what you would like to see in this story, and so on.

By the way, what do you think Sirius can do to 'prove himself worthy'? (The sooner I get a good idea, the sooner I can write and post the next chapter.)


	6. chapter 6

Warning: This chapter is rated PG13 for some torture and swearing, just to be safe.

Sirius sat in the drawing room, randomly flicking his wand at several objects, making them float around lazily. He was bored and this little exercise helped to train his control, which was not as good as it should be, before his little sojourn in Azkaban. Besides, it amused him to levitate the portrait round and round, often dangerously close to colliding with other objects like the similarly affected daggers and claws, making Grand Aunt Tia screech and hurl abuse at the outrage. The old hag's language had not improved with age; it was still as dull and uncreative as ever. Lucky Mother didn't like her too, and it was unlikely that she would take him to task if the portrait complained about it.

"Bored, Sirius?" an amused voice came from the doorway.

"Bella darling, you know me so well," he said charmingly, indicating for her to take the seat next to him.

She sniffed haughtily but sat down anyway, staring coolly at the flying mess. "I could hear the screeching from downstairs, cousin. Aunt Rissa was not pleased to be woken."

Sirius leaned close to her and whispered, "I'm sure she'd feel better knowing it's Grand Aunt Tia I'm tormenting." He smiled as the latter screamed, "You put me down this instant, you no-good filthy demented-"

Bella sighed long-sufferingly. "I suppose you don't want to take a tour of the dungeons for more substantial targets then?"

"I'm allowed?"

"My Lord said I'm to be your Initiator, make sure you know Circle hierarchy, how things work in raids, interrogation, meetings and so on. We'll see how your magic and spell knowledge goes first and conveniently, there are a few prisoners down for interrogation."

A test then. So soon- little more than a week- he hadn't expected-

_Remember the rat, remember_-

It helped.

"Put me down! You abominably ignominious wretch! Oh my poor head hurts. Do you hear me, you ill-bred unconscionably blackguard-"

"As you wish, milady," he said pleasantly, and let everything crash to the floor with a smirk.

"I would like to go sometime before the sun rises again, Sirius," Bella said bitingly amidst the portrait's continued verbal abuse, holding out a black glove.

_Nice glove_, he thought, as the portkey jerked him forward in a dizzying swirl of colours, _as least bloodstains wouldn't show_.

They landed in a dark gloomy corridor. It was quiet, too quiet, for a dungeon holding prisoners. It's like Silencing spell placed over each cell, to prevent sounds, screams or whimpers, from spilling out. It was somehow worse than Azkaban, being suspended in a place of not-knowing, not-hearing who's out there, who's coming, forever waiting, fearing for the unknown to come. Sometimes, anticipating horrors can be worse than the horror itself, when it comes, if it comes.

He should know; the nightmares, the memories-

_JamesandLilyandHarry._

Bella had started walking, and he followed, going deeper into the cold damp atmosphere. A wave of fleeting icy darkness pierced him, and he knew. It wasn't just the air. There was no sign of human guards so far; there was no need for them, not with dementors guarding the cells, the prisoners.

"Why don't the dementors affect us?"

"You can tell they're here?"

"I've grown rather- sensitive to those creatures," he said wryly.

Bella didn't respond, stopping by a cell and muttering some spell that caused a door to appear and open inwards.

"I don't know. No one knows, except our Lord who personally negotiated with the dementors."

"I thought you would know, being His favourite." The words escaped, too fast, and a distant part of his mind involuntarily winced at the way it sounded.

"There are some secrets even His favourites are not privy to," she said coolly. "_Lumos_!" The tip of her wand emitted a blue light, illuminating the dark cell and casting a distorted shadow on the far wall.

He didn't mean to imply anything, but he guessed it didn't come out quite the right way; the flattery intended to sooth turned to insinuation instead, ruffling her feathers. Bella must have thought he was fishing for information about the dementors because of the implications, and she would be right. He cared insomuch as that they'll never affect him again. He wanted to speak, but words caught in his throat when he saw the prisoners.

It couldn't be- they- they were dead-

He stared wildly at Bella but she only arched an eyebrow, her lips quirked in an unpleasant way. Her eyes were intent, watching him carefully, and she spread a hand towards the prisoners as if presenting them, challenging him to take the lead. He moved, more out of a need to know than to prove himself to Bella.

The three prisoners huddled together, watching him warily. The woman hugged the little boy tighter to her and he buried his head in the curve of her neck, in the locks of red hair curling there. The black-haired man had his arm protectively around them, glaring at him more bravely when he made no move to use his wand on them.

A family.

_JamesandLilyandHarry._

"Don't hurt my mummy!" Small fists beat on his arm harmlessly, punctuated by the high-pitched cry.

Sirius then realised that a bunch of red hair was wound tightly around his hand, and the woman looked like she was trying not to wince while trying to hush the child and stop him from aggravating him.

Violet eyes.

_No, not Lily._

He released his grip on the woman's hair and glanced to the side, catching sight of the Stunned man lying on the floor and Bella, leaning against the wall.

"Interrogation, cousin? They look like Muggles to me," he sneered.

"The man's a mudblood and rumoured to be working for the old fool."

"His wife and child?"

Bella smiled sweetly and said, "They were invited for a short stay. After all, we wouldn't want him to worry unnecessarily about his family while he's away, would we?"

Of course not, he would be worrying very necessarily by the looks of it.

"You'll ask the questions?"

"Yes, and you'll assist me."

"I suppose whatever goes?"

"Naturally."

Sirius spelled chains to restrain the man to the wall before reviving him.

"You have information we want. There is no need for anyone to get hurt if you cooperate."

There, he'd given him fair warning.

"Never!" the man spat, hazel eyes blazing.

_James. Loyal, proud and stubborn. _

_And dead._

"_Crucio,_" Sirius said calmly.

And the man started to scream in agony, his body convulsing and straining against the chains. He screamed and screamed, and Sirius idly wondered if he'd ever screamed like that, when they first put him in Azkaban and the dementors came, sensing fresh prey, fresh horrors to be bought forth from the mind. He saw the wife and child stare in horrified confusion, not understanding why her husband, his father was screaming far worse than if a thousand white-hot knives pierced him, worse than if he were dissected or burnt alive.

He ended the curse, leaving the man gasping painfully in its aftermath and shaking uncontrollably as muscles continued to spasm.

"Ready to answer questions?"

The man shook his head; his lips were pressed tightly together, his hands clenched into fists.

Sirius sighed. He's tired of talking.

"Very well, have it your way. Say something if you change your mind."

He turned towards the woman and her child, and motioned them to come here. They did, unwillingly, and he let them fuss over the chained man for a while, let them plead with him to give in to their captors demands, let the stubborn man know what he would be losing if he doesn't give in.

"_Crucio_."

The woman and boy fell to the floor simultaneously, screaming in pain. They writhed and twisted on the ground, similar expressions of anguish flitting across their faces before another variation of it took its place. He watched them and wondered if everyone had the same reaction to the curse, the same arch of the body as pain streaked through, the same contorted expression on one's face, the same high-pitched scream turning scratchy and dry as one continued to scream even when one's voice was gone.

Sirius glanced at the man. His eyes were squeezed shut and tension was radiating from him. Helpless and powerless to stop this, to save his family from more pain and torture. Sirius understood that feeling too well; he was helpless and powerless once.

_Helpless and powerless to save JamesandLilyandHarry, to avenge them on the rat. _

_Not anymore._

But the man was different; he's helpless, not powerless. As long as he cooperates… he had to realise that before it's too late.

_You hadn't realised until it was too late._

The screams had stopped. The woman struggled to reach her child and comfort him, even as she shivered and breathed unevenly, suffering from the aftereffects of the curse herself. She cradled the boy's head in her lap and looked up at her husband, saying hoarsely, "Please, Will, tell them what they want to know."

"You don't understand, Lisa. I can't. I can't. Please, don't ask this of me."

A plea; he was close to breaking.

"I don't understand because you never told me! And now, all this," she gestured agitatedly with a hand. "I don't understand, Will. I only know Adrian is suffering and scared and confused. I am too. We just want to go home. They promised we'd be safe. Please."

"They're Death Eaters! Their word can't be trusted!"

"_Imperio_!"

The woman- Lisa's eyes glazed over and Sirius passed her a transfigured knife, its blade sharp and gleaming, light glinting off its edge. She continued to stroke Adrian's head while tracing the tip of the knife down his cheek, his neck.

"Mummy?" the weak cry was laced with fear and uncertainty.

"Lisa, no!"

Sirius paused. "You should know that she's going to slit his throat."

"You- you bastard! He's just a child!"

"I could have thought of much worse things to do to him, believe me. Changed your mind yet?"

"I- I- "

"Your wife will go insane when she realised she'd killed her son, you know. You could prevent this."

"I- " Will closed his eyes painfully, obviously torn. "You promise we'll be safe?"

"Yes."

He drew a shuddering breath, and said bleakly, "I'll answer your questions."

Sirius smiled, and nodded to Bella, who had been silent all this while, watching. The interrogation was quick as Will answered everything directly, dully. But he could tell that Bella wasn't very pleased and she rounded on him once they were out of the cell.

"You're too soft, Sirius. Others will see it as a weakness."

"I like progressive torture. He broke too easily."

Bella considered him closely for a moment, then smiled thinly and said, "I prefer more damage, but to each his own. As long as you're sure you can go far when the situation demands it."

"It won't be a problem."

_It can't be a problem._

_I won't allow it to be._

--oO--

He stared at the jet-black tattoo on his inner forearm - a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue, burned into his skin by the Dark Lord himself. The snake hissed at him, its forked tongue sticking out, and slithered around the skull, weaving in and out of its eyeholes and mouth. On his skin. He had done it.

Just like the traitor.

No.

He's better than that rat.

He would be better.

For JamesandLilyandHarry.

"Sirius! What's taking you so long?" Bella called, opening the door. "It's not nice to keep Narcissa and family waiting. We're going to be late."

Sirius rolled down his shirt sleeves and buttoned the cuffs, taking the time to compose himself. He looked up and smiled warmly, dipping into an exaggerated bow and offering her his hand, saying smoothly, "This way, milady."

Bella laughed at his antics, but took his hand, and allowed herself to be led downstairs.

"Congratulations, son. Bella told me about the raid and your Initiation."

"Good evening, Mother, and thank you. You believe me now?"

"You've proved yourself," the portrait said simply.

Sirius nodded, feeling strangely blank. This was all Mother wanted of him – to join the Dark Lord and bring glory to the House of Black. She should thank the rat; without him, he would-

_still have his best friend; he would not have gone to Azkaban _

_-_not have his family back; not have joined the Dark Lord.

"It's good to have you back in the family again, cousin."

Someone was hugging him. He blinked; blond hair, pale skin, grey eyes. Narcissa. When had they reached the manor? He couldn't recall traveling here.

"It's good to see you again, Narcissa," he said softly, and shook hands with her husband. "Lucius Malfoy. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," he said pleasantly. "So Sirius, I heard you were just Marked yesterday…"

They sat down and talked, drinking wine and discussing politics, most of it centering around the Dark Lord and Sirius's Initiation, the recent and future raids. It was supposed to be a little family gathering to renew ties, a sort of celebration for his success, a welcome into the folds of the Dark Lord's family. The evening passed in a haze and ended with him declining an invitation to spend the night. Bella followed suit and Narcissa gave them knowing looks, but Sirius was too tired to analyse what it meant.

They took the portkey back since Narcissa insisted they were in no shape to Apparate and Sirius refused to use the Floo half-asleep and half-sober. Bella stumbled as they landed and he caught her, just barely, his arms around her back. Too close, and neither was moving away.

"Careful, darling," he said gently, loosing his hold on her, but her arms slung over the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Grey eyes stared into each other. "Bella, we shouldn't-" Sirius started but was silenced by her finger on his lips. Too close, too warm, too much wine. She kissed him, a fleeting brush of lips, then more boldly, licking his lips, a quick flick of her tongue. Too long, too familiar. He kissed her back, a slow dance of thrusting tongues in wet warmth, the first intimate greeting of two separated lovers.

He broke off the kiss after a while and said, "You forgive me?"

"You would have been dead the second we met if I didn't," she said certainly, amused.

"I'm touched," Sirius said with a crooked smile.

"Not in the head I hope."

Sirius laughed. "I haven't heard you tease in years."

"That's because you weren't here," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry, love," he said, kissing her forehead.

"Why did you come back, really?" She looked at him searchingly.

She was sharp; Bella always did know him best. And he wouldn't lie. She deserved the truth at least. "I came back partly for revenge, partly for the family, or just you, really."

"That's sweet. Do you need help?"

He had missed this Bella, the one who's sly and sarcastic and sweet (in her own twisted way), and on his side.

"You're not angry?"

"If there is one thing I am sure about you, is your thirst for revenge. What is there to be angry about?"

"Thanks, love."

"Who's the fortunate one?"

"You may have heard of him. Peter Pettigrew."

A look of disgust passed over her face and she said in distaste, "That low-down rat? It should be easy to get rid of him. Nobody in the Inner Circle likes him, the fawning, sniveling coward that he is."

"Perfect."

--oO--

The meeting had ended and various 'pop' sounds were heard as the cloaked and masked figures Disapparated. But he stayed, his eyes fixed on his target, a short mousy man who stood out, even camouflaged in the sea of black cloaks, by his shrinking posture and the insecure air of uncertainty around him.

So lost.

_You traded our friendship for this pitiful existence, cowering before all more powerful than you?_

He refused to pity him; the rat deserved what he got.

"Wormtail."

He looked up, startled and confused, then he realised who had called him, and his eyes widened marginally before darting around nervously. "Si- Sirius, how- how nice to see you," he stuttered, smoothing his robes in a fidgety manner.

"Yes, five years is a long time, isn't it?" Sirius said casually, but he could feel the beginnings of anger welling up.

"I- I- you don't still blame me, do you? I had no choice at that time. You were so determined to expose me and spoil everything and I can't go to Azkaban-"

_You can't go to Azkaban but I can?_

"I understand, Peter."

_You filthy rat._

"Five years is a long time to get over it."

_Even eternity will not make me forget._

"I don't hold it against you anymore."

_I'll make you pay._

"Friends?"

_You backstabbing, son of a bitch, mudblood-_

Peter beamed, obviously relieved. "Friends," he affirmed, shaking Sirius's offered hand.

Sirius's skin crawled at the contact, but he just smiled amiably and walked together with Peter.

"You don't look too bad," Peter commented suddenly. "Azkaban can't be as horrible as everyone says."

_Why don't I lock you in a roomful of dementors and insane prisoners and we'll see how horrible it 'can't be'?_

Sirius clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling a murderous urge to slam the rat against the wall, his hands around the traitor's neck, slowly squeezing and tightening his hold, feeling the struggling body kicking against him, hands clawing at his, seeing the roll of his eyes backwards and the body going limp-

'Subtlety is the way to go,' Bella had said.

"I guess the dementors didn't bother me as much as they did the other prisoners."

"Oh, that's good."

They lapsed into awkward silence, then Peter said wistfully, "I missed the old days, you know, when all of us were so happy together, and the war was just a faraway worry in the safety of Hogwarts. James and Lily were so sweet together and Moony was always- "

_You have no right to talk of JamesandLilyandMoony and us! Don't you dare say their names like nothing happened, like you didn't betray them and caused their deaths! Don't you dare!_

"Yes, and now it's only left the two of us."

_Soon there will only be one._

"Do you have news of Moony?" Sirius asked.

"I'm not sure. Last I heard he was taking refuge at Hogwarts…"

Sirius smiled and nodded, listening with half an ear as the rat prattled on about nothing in particular, all the while thinking murderous thoughts and plotting the traitor's demise.

============================

Thanks to all reviewers: Fluffylittledragon, npetrenko, chozen1, Darkmoon Fleur, Silver-Enchantress-Elf, Serpent of Light, henriette, Instigator666, Emerald Tigriss.

Please review! Reviews keep writers going, especially since we don't get anything out of writing fanfic except our enjoyment and the readers' feedback.


	7. chapter 7

"Expelliarmus!"

Bella sidestepped the spell and flicked her wand, almost lazily. "Tarantallegra!"

"Protego!"

The spell dissolved upon hitting the shield and Bella smiled. "You have improved since we last dueled."

"Thanks. Accio table!"

Bella looked confused then dropped to the side when she heard the rushing sound of air behind her and the table passed her untouched, stopping before him.

"Rictusempra!" Aiden quickly sent her a tickling charm and took cover behind the upturned table, his back against the table face. He had just cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and barely rolled away in time for the 'Reducto!' that blasted the table to bits.

"Come out now Aiden," said Bella, circling the area slowly, her eyes narrowed for any unusual movement in the surroundings.

"Stupefy!" he said, sneaking behind her but she was too fast, diving to the side and turning in his direction. Her eyes searched the area and passed the space beside the shelf, passed him. And Aiden felt a little safer because she still couldn't see him, still couldn't pinpoint his exact location.

"Crucio!"

_How did she-_

"Protego!"

A shimmering white shield appeared in front of him and belatedly he remembered that the curse couldn't be blocked by any magical shields; it pierced through barrier and he wasn't fast enough--

The curse stuck him and the pain was so intense, so all-consuming that he no longer knew where he was. He had never felt such (pain)- white-hot knives shot through every part of his body, his insides felt like molten fire and there were screams, inside his head and outside; he was screaming-

And then it stopped, seeming an eternity between, and he gasped for air, breathing heavily, feeling the cool stone floor beneath his shaking hands as he reached for his fallen wand.

"You foolish idiotic boy! Why didn't you duck!"

She was screaming. Bella never screamed. She advised, scolded, and even occasionally insulted, but they were all at her normal voice level. Aiden had never seen her so angry before, even when he messed up his potion or couldn't cast a spell properly.

"So- sorry," he said, trying to control the tremors wrecking his body and he stood up unsteadily, staggering.

"You- you- idiot! Never do that again, you hear me? The Cruciatus Curse was Unforgivable for a reason. You can't just block it with a Shield Charm."

"Sorry. I forgot," said Aiden, head bowed and eyes fixed on the ground.

"You forgot!" she screeched. "Did I not teach you about the three Unforgivable Curses? Did I not say that no magical shield or barrier can block them? Did I not-"

"I'm sorry! I didn't expect you to know where I am! I panicked when the curse came."

Bella stared at him and Aiden felt miserable at the disappointment in her eyes. She had never looked at him like that before, so angry, so closed off, like she didn't know what to do with him. Was he that bad?

"You must be alert at all times," she emphasized, her earlier anger gone, replaced by a sort of strange gentleness. Bella sighed and brushed back his hair. "I hope you learnt a lesson today. The real world is full of dangers and you must always be prepared."

"Yes, Bella. I'm sorry."

She summoned a potion and gave it to him. "Drink. It'll help with the aftereffects of the curse."

"I'm fine now."

Bella glared at him and he uncapped the vial of purple smoking potion, eying it dubiously before downing the potion. He had expected it to taste awful but it wasn't. Rather like drinking water, it was cool and tasteless. Warmth spread through his body and soothed the lingering aches, making him feel a little drowsy at the same time.

"Expelliarmus," he said softly, and Bella's wand flew into his hand.

"What-"

"A duel is a duel, and it isn't over until one of the duelers is disarmed," Aiden quoted, giving her a small smile and handing back her wand.

"Throwing my words back at me, I see," said Bella, but Aiden could see that she wasn't angry, just amused at his doggedness over her words.

"We'll end here today. You should rest."

"I'm fine now. We can do theory."

"No."

"Bella… please?"

"Oh all right! Now stop giving me that wide-eyed, trembling lips look."

Aiden grinned and pulled her towards the desk. "Potions, Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms or Defense?

"Transfiguration."

Aiden groaned and Bella smirked at him. "You did ask."

It wasn't that he didn't like Transfiguration; it's just that he couldn't seem to grasp the theory part. People made it out to be so complicated, where this step comes before that step because the characteristics of the original object is different from the targeted end result, and something or other had to be aligned before whatever transformation could be done. He couldn't understand why they had to go through all that trouble; Transfiguration was simply a process of letting it be, using one's magic to twist and mold and shape, as natural as breathing. He had no problems with practical despite not following the theory, and his way of doing wasn't wrong per se, just… different. Father called it an innate talent, an intuition that he couldn't consciously process, and Bella usually neglected Transfiguration for theory lessons, rare as those were since he could do most theory on his own and indeed he had been doing that for the past three years, in favour of her pet subjects, Dark Arts and Potions.

She was doing this deliberately, he knew. Aiden sighed and settled down to a long afternoon of trying to wrap his mind round the concept of Human Transfiguration and Plant Transformation.

Someday he'll ask why does theory matter when he could already do the transfiguration flawlessly without it.

--oO--

"Bella, how long was I under the curse just now?" he asked suddenly.

Something akin to distress flashed across her face but Aiden was sure he imagined it because a moment later she was cool and unruffled, saying, "Less than five seconds."

"It felt like eternity," he said softly, remembering how it felt, what he felt.

"Even a second under that curse is one second too long," she whispered and Aiden looked up, seeing her glazed eyes. He agreed with her but didn't comment, because he had a feeling that she wasn't really talking to him anymore.

They walked in silence for the rest of the way to his rooms, each lost in their own thoughts, their feet taking them through the path they had walked a thousand times before. But the corridors seemed darker somehow as they neared his rooms and he blinked, suddenly realising that some of the lamps that had always cast a soft glow on the surroundings had gone out, and some were flickering, flickering, flickering to nothingness. He shivered then, the air seeming colder by the moment, and in the eerie quiet, he could almost hear a faint rattling sound.

Dementors.

An intense cold swept over him and Aiden felt his own breath catch in his chest. He was sure this wasn't normal; even standing outside in the snow in winter with just a thin layer of clothing could not be this cold. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, inside his heart, all-consuming. Someone was calling him but he couldn't see, couldn't think, and he was drowning in ice, in liquid air, being dragged downwards, falling so heavily. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water but water couldn't be so cold; the roaring grew louder… and then from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified pleading screams.

"Aiden!"

Something- someone was shaking him and he opened his eyes, feeling disorientated and strangely drained. Dementors, he remembered, and stood up slowly.

"They're gone," Bella said soothingly, rubbing his back. "Come on, just a short way to your rooms now."

He didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, allowing Bella's hand on his shoulder to guide him.

"Are you well?"

The question was hesitant, almost like she didn't dare ask. Odd, she was never hesitant before, not with him at least. He must have looked a fright.

"I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile.

She must be wondering about his adverse reaction towards the dementors. It did seem rather extreme. The books hadn't mentioned anything like this for short periods of contact with dementors, and it couldn't be more than a few minutes, yet he-

_had fainted, gone insane hearing voices_

-seemed to have suffered the effects of long-term exposure to dementors.

Yes, he wondered too.

"Aiden."

"My Lord," said Bella.

He looked up, surprised and pleased. "Father," he greeted, genuinely smiling this time.

"Leave, Bella," Father said softly, eyes fixed on him. "I'll speak with you later."

"Yes, my Lord." Her hand left his shoulder, and he felt the brush of her robes against his as she turned and left.

"_Open_," Father hissed at the wall.

Aiden hadn't realised they had reached his rooms and he chided himself for being so affected by the dementors, walking around in a daze even after they had left.

The ordinary dark stone wall, characteristic of every corridor in the mansion, melted away, revealing a pair of doors made of dark wood with carvings of several moving snakes across it, barring the entrance. The animated snakes hissed in welcome, slithering to the sides to allow the doors to open into the rooms beyond.

--oO--

"I thought you had some business with Mr Malfoy?" Aiden's artlessness would have made him smile on other days but at present he was more concerned with the boy's well being.

"It was concluded early," he said brusquely. "I heard you ran across some dementors."

"Yar… but it was nothing," Aiden rushed to reassure him. "Bella chased them away and I'm fine now."

Voldemort stared at him critically. "Come here."   
  
Aiden came and Voldemort looked him over carefully, brushing his sweat-slicked hair from his forehead. Aiden seemed paler than normal, and his skin was unusually cold to his touch.

"Fine indeed," Voldemort said dryly. He conjured a Chocolate Frog and handed it to Aiden wordlessly.

"Thank you," said Aiden, offering him a small smile and taking a bite.   
  
"Finish it."

He settled on the couch and Aiden sat on his lap sideways, leaning on him. His arms locked around the boy, and they sat there like that, enjoying the moment of peaceful quiet.

"Is it normal to hear voices and see things when dementors are near, Father?" Aiden murmured.

Voldemort looked down sharply but the boy's eyes were closed, his breathing even and slow. "It depends," he said. "Those who have particularly bad experiences will be forced to relive their worst memory. Others may only have a strong sense of emptiness, like they'll never be happy again."

"Oh… I just- the books never mentioned that." Aiden sat up and looked at him interestedly.

"You must understand that not everything can be learnt from books. Some things must be experienced, like the effect of an Imperius Curse, or the pain of the Cruciatus Curse."

"I understand," he said, suppressing a shudder and burying his head in his chest.

Voldemort frowned. He really did sound like he understood, too well in fact-- the involuntary tremble, the slight hitch in his voice-

"Did something else happen today?" Voldemort asked sharply.

"No!" Aiden said quickly.

Too quickly. His eyes narrowed.

"It- it was an accident."

"What sort of accident?" He was projecting a deceptive calm and those who knew him well enough would know to be afraid of him in this mood. But it wasn't targeted at Aiden.

"Dueling accident," Aiden said in a small voice. "I was careless."

"Which curse?"

"Cruciatus."

Voldemort thought he knew the answer already; he just wanted confirmation. But he was unprepared for the flood of anger that coursed through him. No one, absolutely no one, was allowed to harm Aiden and even in punishments, only he had the right to lay a hand on the boy. How dare she-

"It's not her fault. Promise you won't punish her," Aiden said imploringly, breaking his train of thoughts.

Voldemort sighed and stroke his head soothingly. "Of course not. But you must be more vigilant next time."

"We can have more dueling practices." Aiden looked at him hopefully.

He laughed. Trust that boy to use this opportunity to coax more time from him. "We'll have more dueling practices after you mastered the Patronus Charm."

--oO--

"What happened?"

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table. Bella sat across him, back straight and hands folded on her lap.

"The dementors were in the same corridor but I didn't feel it because their effects were muted. By the time they were near enough for me to realise their presence, Aiden had already fainted."

Fainted?

Voldemort frowned and for sometime, it was just the rhythmic tapping of fingers on table sounding in the room. Perhaps it was unreasonable to put Aiden through it again. He could just Mark- no, he couldn't do that to the child. And with the dementors as one of his allies, passing encounters with them would be unavoidable. No, it was best that he learned the Charm now and be able to defend himself rather than relying on any Death Eaters for protection.

"I see… Onto another matter," Voldemort said, his voice silkily soft, leaning forward in his chair, "may I remind you that the Cruciatus Curse is off-limits for practice on Aiden?"

Bella blanched. "I- it was an accident."

Voldemort stared coolly at her, fingering his wand in plain sight. "An unfortunate accident won't you say?"

"Ye- yes, my Lord."

She was fidgeting now, clasping and unclasping her hand, her face still pale.

"Even more unfortunate for you," he said, pointing his wand at her, "should it ever happen again."

It took her more than a second to process that he wouldn't be punishing her, and the corners of his lips twisted at her relief, so palpable behind the shaky composure she pulled together.

"Of course not, my Lord. Thank you."

"Aiden claims responsibility for his carelessness," he said. "Thank him."

================================================

Thanks to all reviewers: Darkmoon Fleur, terrorofthehighway, Flame Princess Yukie, henriette, elvesmagic010, SweetSybarite, Ganymade, Fluffylittledragon, chozen1, Langdon, Dius Corvus, r (that'll be about 4 chapters later), Emerald Tigriss (soon, in the next chapter or two), Lady Phasma (yes), eriee, Melwasul, Shadowface, Dirbatua, SEJR, linky2.

Right, not exactly my best chapter and I think it 'shows' more than 'tells' the kind of relationships between characters, which is a good thing when done well but can be quite confusing and vague if the writer (me) screws up. So please review! And tell me what you think.

Just one question to see if I've conveyed the feelings adequately: how, in your opinion, did Bella feel about her curse hitting Aiden?


	8. chapter 8

"Excuse me!" a harried high-pitched voice said, and a small boy rushed past him, but not before Sirius caught a glimpse of his face. His eyes were playing tricks on him- it couldn't be-

"Wait!"

Sirius caught up with the boy, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder and the boy turned then, saying, "Sorry I'm in a hurry, going to be late for…"

_James… so much like James. _

Sirius saw the messy black hair he always complained about, the thin face and slightly sharp chin, the silver-rimmed glasses and hazel eyes… his easy smile when they gathered on platform 9 and ¾ after the holidays, the devious glint in his eyes when they planned a prank, his confident manner on the broom, swerving and weaving, passing and scoring, his-

His heart ached, missing James, missing his best friend. More than his best friend; he would die for him, kill for him, join the Dark Lord to take revenge… for him.

_For you, James. Always for you._

"Are you all right, sir?"

His vision cleared and he saw the child looking at him curiously, dark green eyes _not hazel, not hidden by glasses _that seemed to pierce him, green that reminded him of the Killing Curse. He shuddered and breathed deeply, hands clutching.

"You're hurting me."

He looked up, startled, and just realised that he had been clutching the boy's shoulders. His hands fell to the sides as if burned and the boy rubbed his shoulders a little, where his hands were moments before.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's ok." The boy tilted his head slightly and studied him for a while, and Sirius let him stare and stared back in return, afraid that this James-like child would vanish if he moved.

"You're related to Bella," he proclaimed finally. Then frowned and said to himself, "But I don't know her maiden name."

Bella? He knows Bella? But she never told him-

"I'm Sirius Black. What's your name?"

"I'm Aiden," the boy said, smiling.

James had smiled like that too, when they met for the first time in Flourish and Blotts, getting books for his first year at Hogwarts. They had reached for the same book, he remembered, and both were startled to see another hand on it. They had stared at each other, neither seeming to want to let go, then twin voices of 'you can have it' rang out together. James had laughed and Sirius joined in, feeling a sort of connection with the other boy.

It wasn't often that he met a stranger his age who had the same interest and thought the same thoughts, even voicing it at the same time, and perhaps it was then that Sirius decided James would be his friend, no matter what.

He had convinced the hat to put him in Gryffindor because James would be there, even though his parents would disapprove. They had played pranks on pretty much everyone because it made James laugh, and later, Sirius had found amusement in them too. He had joined the Quidditch team with James and became a Beater because Chasers needed protection from the Bludgers; he had switched with Peter for the Fidelius Charm because he thought James would be safer if he got caught and tortured; he had-

_James, but James was dead because of the filthy, low-down, sniveling rat. _

Sirius forced himself to relax, unclenching his fists and taking a calming breath, focusing on the boy in front of him.

So much… so much like James… 

"Hello Aiden. What's a nice boy like you doing here?"

Aiden's brows knitted together, looking perplexed at the question. "'Here' isn't a good place to be?"

Isn't a good place to be indeed. Sirius smiled wryly. Most would run screaming from this place and its horrifying dungeons yet this boy seemed to have no idea and looked not the least disturbed to be here, home to the Dark Lord, and hell to his enemies. Perhaps he's an apparition, haunting the home of the Dark Lord, wandering the corridors and playing tricks on tortured people like him by becoming a look-alike of their dead best friends.

"It would depend on who you are then," he said softly, smoothing the boy's wayward hair.

No apparition could be this solid.

"I don't understand."

Sirius smiled, drawing the boy closer. "It's ok, you don't have to understand. Where are you-"

"Aiden!" a voice called out behind the boy.

"Sorry, got to go." Aiden turned and hurried away, leaving Sirius feeling strangely bereft.

"Bella, so sorry but Mr Black…"

He stood up slowly and dusted his robes, taking the time to collect himself before walking towards Bella and Aiden.

"Sirius, what are you doing here?"

"Lovely to see you too, cousin," he said easily, bringing her hand to his lips. "My Lord summoned me." Sirius glanced at Aiden and lifted an eyebrow at her.

"You'd better go then. It won't do to keep him waiting."

She was clearly unwilling to speak here. It's all right. He can wait.

"Later, ma chere," he said with a meaningful look, then more softly, "Bye, Aiden."

His eyes lingered on the boy. He really didn't want to leave- he bit his lip as his Dark Mark flared and turned on his heel, striding down the corridor towards the study where the meeting was to be held.

--oO--

Aiden looked calm but he didn't feel it at all, especially with Father watching him so intently – his stomach felt queasy, his heart was thumping too fast, and his hand was gripping his wand too tightly. He had prepared for the spell as thoroughly as he could by reading up on how the Patronus worked and its effects on dementors, but he still didn't feel confident. Knowing how to do it was one thing; actually casting it however, was another matter. He forced himself to breathe evenly, focusing on happy thoughts and warm feelings…

"Expecto Patronum!"

A huge silver shadow burst out of his wand but it wasn't substantial enough to discern any form his Patronus might take.

"Try again. It's fine to take your time."

When Father said something of that nature, it was usually that he didn't expect him to succeed on the first try, either because of the high level of the spell or because his level of magic wasn't there yet. One's level of magic grows with age and practice, control and focus. Aiden knew he wasn't weak; he knew he could do it, and he wouldn't fail. He wouldn't disappoint Father.

He closed his eyes and thought of the first time he'd held his wand, the feeling of completeness, of power flowing through him and his wand, of a joyous song singing in his veins. The things he could do with his wand, no longer restricted to wandlessly casting simple spells, the freedom, the possibilities…

"Expecto Patronum!"

Bright silver shot out of his wand and coalesced to form something long, a winding mass on the floor. It moved, twisting sinuously, lifting its head and flicking a forked tongue. Aiden realised it's a snake. A very large snake, he might add. He could even see the glittering scales, beautiful rainbows of light that changed as it moved.

"_Hello_," he hissed, wondering if it could talk back.

The snake turned and slithered towards him, winding round him loosely, and it felt cool where the silver touched him, cool and smooth and fluid.

"_Master, master…_" it hissed lovingly, its head hovering in front of him.

Aiden stared at it, almost in awe of this- his Patronus. But he knew it wouldn't stay long. It was already fading, and through the white mist he saw Father smiling his rare smile.

"Very good, Aiden. I daresay Nagini will be pleased."

"My Patronus wasn't Nagini."

"No, but it's a snake," Father said, ruffling his hair. "Would you like to practise with the dementors?"

Aiden still remembered the first time he'd met the dementors and it wasn't pleasant. Even if he could cast the Patronus Charm, the dementors would definitely make it more difficult, if not impossible, considering his reaction to them.

"I would like to practise more on my own, until I'm more proficient at the charm."

"All right. But you have to remember that the charm is of no use if you can only cast it without the dementors."

"I know." Of course he knew, and he was dreading it. But he would face his fears because it's the only way to conquer them. And he would make Father proud of him. "I won't take too long."

"Good boy," Father said, patting his shoulder.

Father _will_ be proud of him.

--oO--

Aiden practised for about one week and he could perform the charm at will now, as natural as breathing, without taking so much time to concentrate and prepare for it. He had even named his Patronus Sacha, for 'defender'. It didn't seem nice to keep addressing the snake as 'it' especially since Sacha was going to protect him from the dementors. Well, he was as ready as he'd ever be and there was no point delaying the inevitable anymore.

"Ready?"

He gave Father a weak smile and nodded minutely, not trusting himself to speak.

"I have confidence in you," Father said, hands on his shoulders and looking into his eyes.

"I'm ready," Aiden said, lifting his chin determinedly.

With a soft 'apertum' and a flick of his wand, the wall at the end of the room slid to the side and Aiden felt more than saw the dementor approaching. He tried to grasp at the happy thoughts but they slipped away, so insubstantial beneath the cold.

"Expecto- Expecto Patronum!"

A huge silver shadow burst forth but it wasn't Sacha, merely a weak shimmering barrier. The dementor came closer and the torches at both sides of the wall flickered and went out. He would not give in- a wave of piercing cold broke over him-

"Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto-"

But the room and the dementor were dissolving.... He was falling again through thick white fog, and there were screams echoing inside his head, of a female voice and indistinct words…

"Aiden!"

He slowly opened his eyes and sat up, numbly biting into the chocolate that Father handed him. He was half aware that Father had cast a warming charm on him, but he still felt cold.

"That's enough for today. You don't have to-"

"No, I want to try again."

"Aiden…"

"I know I can do it. I've practiced. Let me try again."

He wouldn't disappoint Father.

Aiden gripped his wand tightly as the wall slid open, and the room went icily cold and dark once more. The dementor glided forward, drawing a rattling breath. Aiden could hear the screams at the edge of his senses again but he tried to block them out, thinking of the time he got his wand- the screams became clearer, no longer just voices; he could make out words-

_"No!"_

When Father had first held him in comfort,

_"__Not Harry!"_

the pleased look on Father's face when he had completed a difficult potion;

"_Please…"_

Father had praised him then,

_"Don't hurt him!"___

and he had almost drifted on warm happiness

_"__I'll- I'll do anything!"___

because he had Father's approval and it was ever so hard to get…

"Expecto Patronum!"

Brilliant silver exploded from his wand and Aiden saw Sacha slithering towards the dementor, rearing her head and hissing. The dementor backed away but it wasn't fast enough and got flung beyond the sliding wall when Sacha swung her tail at it. Aiden smiled at the sight and hissed his thanks.

"You did extremely well today, even better than I'd expected," Father said, coming up behind him, clasping his shoulders. "I'm proud of you."

Aiden looked up at Father and smiled, because that's all he really wanted. The lines on Father's face softened and he seated Aiden on the edge of something, a table that wasn't there moments before, so that their faces were at the same level. His legs dangled but he didn't glance down, mesmerized by Father's intent gaze on him, unable to look away.

"Genuine affection cannot be bought with achievements, nor can it decrease with disappointments. You don't have to… feel like you need to do things to-"

Aiden kissed him then, a fleeting brush of lips.

"I know. It just makes me happy to make you happy."

Father closed his eyes briefly and Aiden thought he looked a little pained.

"I- I won't do it if you don't like it," he said, gazing down at his hands.

"It's not that. I just," Father seemed to be searching his face for something, "wanted you to know."

Aiden waited for him to continue but Father just smiled and tugged his hand, saying, "Let's go back. You need to rest."

Aiden slipped down from the table, feeling as though the conversation was cut off halfway and he was missing something important in it. They walked through the concealed passageway connecting to his rooms, taking the shorter way back.

"Bella wasn't exaggerating about your reaction to the dementors," Father said out of the blue, breaking the rhythm of their steps and drawing him from his jumbled thoughts.

"Well, they aren't the most pleasant creatures," he said weakly, hoping Father wouldn't ask further.

But the comment had sparked thoughts of his latest experience with the dementor and he couldn't help thinking about the screams he had heard just now. Who was the woman and why would he hear her scream when dementors came? It should be a memory, his memory, and maybe, maybe that was his mother.

Aiden hadn't thought much about his mother before; he had just accepted that he didn't have one so he never asked about his mother, and Father had also never mentioned her. But now… he wanted to know for sure what happened to her. After those horrible screams, he didn't think he could stand not knowing, if the woman was his mother.

"… not everyone blacked out."

"It's- it's not exactly blackout. I hear screams when dementors are near," he said softly, glancing sideways at Father. "A woman's screams."

Aiden thought he saw Father tense in a minute pause between his present step and the next. But Father didn't comment so Aiden continued, half speaking to himself, "She was pleading with someone. The room was a wreck." Aiden closed his eyes, seeing black, lost in the memory. "There was fear. Panic. Helplessness. Desperation. Harry."

His eyes opened abruptly.

"Harry," he repeated, his eyes not actually seeing anything beyond the name.

Aiden blinked away the dizzy blankness and looked at Father, suddenly feeling lost and confused.

"Father, who's Harry?"

=================================================================

I probably broke all rules of writing and punctuations in this chapter especially; please forgive me.

Thanks to all the wonderful reviewers: Fluffylittledragon, Night-Owl123, DOG-SEJR, Shadowface, chozen1, The Vampire Story Hunter, Serpent of Light, r, Starr Light1, Xenocide, Emerald Tigriss, Robbly, henriette, Agnus Dei, cassy-australia, Kage Mirai, silvernightshade, Darkmooon Fleur, ladyraebef, Gohan00.

It's nice to know I sort of got the idea across in the previous chapter regarding Bella.

Some questions to let me know how the writing was:

-What was your impression of the relationship between Sirius and James?

-Are descriptions overly lacking? (because I think there's too much dialogue and it's not very balanced)

Other thoughts and comments welcomed. Please review!


	9. chapter 9

Luminous green eyes turned up to him, not hiding their confusion. So trusting, so vulnerable.

Voldemort had known that Aiden would find out, sooner or later, and he knew where it was going to lead to when Aiden started talking about the screams he heard. Voldemort thought there was still time before the matter came up, maybe a few years more before that old fool saw Aiden and put two and two together. He just didn't expect it to be the dementors who would spark off this discussion.

He wasn't prepared to lose the boy yet and he would not either.

"You saw Harry?" he asked, trying to ascertain how much Aiden knew.

Aiden shook his head. "The woman, I heard her calling for Harry. She was… pleading with someone. She wants- she wanted…" He bit his lip and Voldemort could see that he was trying so hard to hold onto the memory, to sort out his thoughts and voice them more coherently, but in the end he couldn't help feeling a little relieved when Aiden finally said, "I can't remember."

Voldemort bent down and pulled him close. Aiden really was too old to be carried but he would make an exception this time. Besides, the corridor was no place for the things they were going to talk about, even though no one would use this passage but the two of them.

_My poor confused boy._

They had reached the end of the passage and a door materialized after a hissed 'Serpent's lair'.

"It's a memory, isn't it? My memory."

"Yes. Yes, it was."

"The woman I heard… is she my mother?"

"Yes, she was."

"Is that- is that the day she died?"

"Yes."

There was no way to soften the blow and Aiden fell silent. Voldemort placed Aiden on the bed before sitting down beside him. Peripherally, he noticed that Nagini, usually residing in the boy's room, was nowhere to be found.

"So who's Harry? Is he my brother?" Aiden looked more curious than sad. Voldemort supposed it was hard for a child to grieve when he didn't really know his mother, when he couldn't even remember her.

"No, he's not your brother," he said gently, watching Aiden's reaction, "Harry is you, Aiden. Your mother was screaming your name."

Aiden stared at him. "But-"

"I changed your name after she died."

"Why?"

"Your mother need not have died. She died to protect you. I changed your name so that people would not be able to trace you so easily and take you away."

"Mother died for me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because… she loves you."

Aiden's head bowed and his hands were clasped tightly. The subtle shift of tensed fingers made Voldemort realise that he was probably digging his nails into his flesh and he pried them apart.

"Stop it! It's not your fault she died."

A few drops of water landed on the boy's robes and his shoulders were shaking ever so slightly.

"Look at me, Aiden."

Aiden lifted his head and immediately flung himself into his arms, clinging to him. "I'm sorry," Aiden said, the words muffled by his clothes.

"You should be. Nobody has ever cried on me before."

Aiden let out a choked sound that was half laughter and half sob and his arms tightened around him. "No, I'm sorry Mother died."

He couldn't possibly think that it was his-

"It's not your fault," Voldemort said sharply, shaking Aiden by his shoulders and forcing the boy to look at him. "Your mother chose to die for you because she values your life more than her own."

"You're not mad at me?"

Aiden's small voice made something in him ache but he ruthlessly squashed that foreign feeling. It wasn't guilt; he hadn't felt guilty in a long time but he was sure it wouldn't prick like this.

"Of course not," Voldemort said, rubbing the tearstains from Aiden's face, "and I forbid you to feel responsible for your mother's death."

"Yes, Father," Aiden said, giving him a watery smile.

"Sleep now. It's been a tiring day for you." Voldemort summoned a nightshirt and handed it to Aiden who changed into it methodically.

"Will you stay with me tonight and tell me more about Mother?" Aiden implored as Voldemort stood to leave.

Voldemort couldn't remember much about the woman, but he couldn't refuse Aiden some comfort so he relented. "Only for a while."

Aiden kissed him and snuggled under the covers while he sat on the covers, near the edge of the bed, resting back on a pillow propped against the headboard. Aiden faced him, lying sideways with his arm under his head on the other pillow.

"What did Mother look like?"

He could remember vivid colours. "She had red hair and green eyes, like you."

"Was she pretty?" Aiden's voice was getting softer.

He couldn't remember her features, only a fleeting appreciation of them. "Yes."

"What was she like?" Aiden murmured drowsily, his eyes closed.

She had stood up to him. "She was brave." She had died for her son. "And self- sacrificing."

"Was that why you married her?"

Voldemort froze, not knowing how to answer that question. A few moments passed and there was still no prompting from Aiden. He glanced at the boy and relaxed when he saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He got off the bed quietly and moved towards the door. A whispered 'Nox' cloaked the room in darkness except for the glowing embers in the fireplace off the side.

"I didn't," he said softly to the shadows, a belated answer to the sleeping boy's question, and closed the door.

--oO--

"_Have you seen Mother before?_" Aiden hissed to Nagini who was curled up on his chest. Her head came up, hovering above his.

"_No_," she hissed.

"_I wished I had a picture. Father said she was pretty_," he said wistfully, stroking her cool length.

Aiden started when Nagini slithered off him, and the loss of her comforting weight made him sit up, partly to see where she was going.

"_I've never seen Master's mate_," she said and slid off the bed, moving across the room and out of the door.

Nagini was acting so peculiar today. Aiden shook his head at the back of the retreating snake and lay back on the bed, staring at the enchanted ceiling where bright electric blue pixies were playing. He stuck his tongue out at the pixie making a rude gesture at him and sat up guiltily when he heard a distinct coughing sound. How embarrassing to be caught in one of his childish moments.

Father raised an eyebrow at him and Aiden felt his checks flush. He smiled sheepishly and Father laughed, ruffling his hair.

"You've made Nagini angry again? She doesn't look too happy when I came in."

"I didn't," Aiden protested. "I was just asking her about Mother."

Father closed his eyes and sighed. "Aiden, please don't go around talking about her."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad."

Father was silent for a while. "It's not that," he said finally. "If people found out who your mother was and, by deduction, who you are, they'd try to take you away from me. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

Aiden at once felt horrified at the prospect and mortified at his thoughtlessness. "Of course not!" He hugged Father tightly. "I would never want that to happen. I want to be with you always."

"Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it!" Aiden said earnestly, looking into Father's eyes.

"For now, Aiden. For now."

"Forever, Father." Aiden kissed him and laid his head on his shoulder. "Forever."

"Silly boy," Father said, patting his back and Aiden smiled to himself, because he knew Father was pleased.

Aiden didn't ask about Mother again.

--oO--

Father said Occlumency was a useful skill and it might help in dealing with the effects of dementors. Aiden had not heard of Occlumency as some sort defense against dementors but the theory sounded plausible enough. In a way, what dementors do to humans is similar to Legilimency since they also extract emotions and memories from people's minds, albeit with less subtlety. So it follows that if they are similar, and Occlumency is the defensive counter to Legilimency, it may also be used to defend the mind against dementors.

The theory is a little iffy but Aiden thinks Occlumency is a worthy pursuit on its own. He rather liked the idea of being able to conceal his thoughts and feelings if it ever suited him to do so. Necessity takes precedence, of course, and it is always best to be prepared.

Besides, the process will sharpen one's focus as control of thoughts and emotion can also extend to control of one's magic.

Aiden found Occlumency interesting, as he did with all new knowledge of magic, but also rather frustrating to learn. It was not for the lack of trying; he just wasn't used to clearing the mind of thoughts and emotions. He had the discipline and focus required, yet it seemed harder to concentrate on nothing compared to the usual focus of spells and happy memories.

Father pronounced his progress satisfactory but Aiden knew better. He couldn't really sustain the defense for long and Father almost always knew the things he was supposed to not let him know. How could this be called satisfactory?

"Ready to test the potion?"

Aiden eyed the potion with distaste. It looked like thick, dark mud, bubbling sluggishly. The potion was bound to taste horrible. "I'm sure it's correctly brewed. It has the right texture, colour and viscosity. Can't I not try it?"

Bella laughed and ruffled his hair. "Come now, Aiden, it'll be a good experience." She ladled some of the potion into a glass and added a strand of blond hair. The potion hissed and frothed, eventually turning brownish yellow.

He took the potion reluctantly. "Clothes won't be a problem, right?"

"The boy's about your size."

Aiden drank the potion quickly and wrinkled his nose at the taste. Immediately, his insides started writhing, and a burning sensation extended rapidly from his stomach to the ends of his fingers and toes. He gasped as the skin all over his body bubbled like hot wax, a horrible melting feeling, and watched, fascinated but uncomfortable, as his fingers became short and stubby, covered by tanned skin. There were tiny aches and prickles all over and he waited for it to pass.

When everything stopped, Aiden examined himself curiously, standing in front of a full-length mirror Bella had conjured. He touched the dirty-blond fringe falling over his eyes and studied his blue eyes, sharp nose, rounder cheeks and overall, darker complexion.

"It is… interesting." Even his voice sounded strange. "What is his name?"

"Martin, Marcus, Mark, or something like that," Bella said carelessly, clearing the leftover potion and sending the equipments back to their place with a flick of her wand.

"Do we look exactly the same?"

"You know how the Polyjuice Potion works, Aiden."

"I know. Can I meet him?"

"I don't keep track of unknown children."

Aiden felt disappointed. He had wanted to see for himself the real 'Martin, Marcus, Mark, or something like that' and see if he looked any different from the actual boy.

"Binky has a message for Master Aiden, sir," the house-elf squeaked, having appeared out of the blue. "My Lord wants to see Master Aiden in the public rooms immediately, sir."

"Now? But I-" Aiden gestured at his appearance, and looked to Bella for help.

She looked unconcerned. "Don't worry about it. My Lord knows we're experimenting with Polyjuice today."

"Oh," he said, as she directed him towards the fireplace and threw in some green powder.

Aiden briefly wondered why they were taking the Floo as he stepped into the green flames and remembered to tuck in his elbows just before he was propelled forward, turned right, left, left and out, almost stumbling when it came to an end.

"Good evening, Father. You wanted to see me?" The heat behind him disappeared and Aiden knew the fireplace, having served its purpose, had melted back into the walls. It was partly to prevent unwanted people from Flooing in, though they would be foolish to do so. Besides the fact that one never knew when the Floo was open and where it would end, one just didn't go to Riddle Mansion begging for a death sentence.

Father looked up from his desk and studied him. Aiden didn't like his gaze. It seemed cooler somehow and Aiden was worried, until he remembered that it was probably because he didn't look like himself. A moment later, Father smiled and stood up, walking over to him.

"Would you like to test your Occlumency skills against someone else? Severus will be here shortly."

"Now? But I'm not prepared." There was a hint of panic and Father looked amused.

"You've been doing your daily meditation and practices of clearing your mind of thoughts and emotions."

"But I still can't seem to defend my mind against you." He did not sound sulky. Father's lips twitched. All right, he did.

Father's hand hovered over his head, but he didn't smooth over his hair or ruffle it, instead he rubbed a lock of hair between two fingers then let it fall back in place. Aiden wished he hadn't taken the Polyjuice Potion.

"I know you too well. Severus will provide a more objective assessment of your skills."

Aiden considered for a while. "Can I use my wand?"

"Have you been using your wand in normal practices?"

"Well… no." Aiden looked at Father's faintly raised eyebrow and sighed. It was worth trying.

"Your mind is always your first defense; your wand, the second, which you will have no need of if the first succeed."

Father tapped the wall twice and walked through it. Aiden followed, wondering where they were going. It was a short distance before they reached the end of the passage and the barrier slid to the side to allow them to pass through. Aiden vaguely recognised the place as the meeting hall for Death Eaters, having sneaked in once to see Bella before the Azkaban attack a few years back. He didn't have time nor mood to observe his surroundings then and took time to do so now, letting his eyes and attention wander. The place was large and empty. Black tiles covered the long stretch of space to the main door, striking in the unusual choice of colour. He liked the sidewalls – black marble at the bottom fading to grey and etiolating to white near the top. The slightly elevated platform they were standing on had the same fadeout of colours. There was a sort of dark elegance, devoid of decoration and ornaments, highlighted by burning torches along the sidewalls.

Movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention – a man in black robes was striding towards them.

"My Lord," the man said, bowing slightly to Father after a disinterested side glance at Aiden.

Aiden studied him. Hooked nose. Sallow skin. Black shoulder length hair that seemed greasy, falling limply around his face. Black eyes that held no warmth. Not a very friendly face.

"Severus," Father said, drawing out the s, "my little spy."

Aiden felt like he's missing something in this exchange. There was something off about that deliberate caressing tone and the smile that followed; both didn't quite seem to be what they mean.

"I would like your assistance in an experiment to confirm a little hypothesis of mine."

It was not a request.

"I would be delighted to be of assistance," Mr Snape murmured.

"Tell me the child's thoughts," Father said, extending a hand towards Aiden. But he did not touch him.

Aiden saw a flicker of surprise before Mr Snape schooled his expression into his initial impassive mask. He didn't like the intent look Mr Snape gave him and lowered his eyes once he felt a creeping presence probing his mind.

"Look at me," Mr Snape commanded.

Aiden reminded himself that this was an Occlumency exercise; he can't keep hiding. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to clear his thoughts and emotions, then looked straight at the man. Mr Snape circled him slowly, once, twice, three times. The intense scrutiny was making him uncomfortable and Aiden wished he would just get on with it.

"I know your parents," Mr Snape said, staring at him.

He seemed to be waiting for something, and Aiden wondered what it was until Mr Snape glared at him and took out his wand. He must be succeeding if the man had given up on subtle manipulation and gone for the more forceful and direct method to penetrate his mind.

"Legilimens!" Mr Snape snapped.

A red-haired woman hovered over him, eyes glazed… the Cruciatus Curse speeding towards him and sudden great burst of unbearable pain… a flash of brilliant green-

The images stopped and Aiden found himself staring at Snape again. His look of surprise was quickly replaced by a frown.

"Legilimens!"

Aiden waited for the onslaught of attack and strengthened his mental shields as best as he could.

It never came. Or rather, it didn't break through.

Aiden blinked.

Had he succeeded then? He looked to Father uncertainly, just as Snape turned to Father.

"My Lord, the boy can-"

"Yes?" Father's tone dared him to voice the problem.

"Nothing, my Lord, nothing." Mr Snape turned back to him and said forcefully, "Legilimens!"

Nothing happened.

"Legilimens!"

Still nothing.

"Enough, Severus," Father said softly. "You may go. I will finish this myself."

Mr Snape slanted a speculative look at him and bowed to Father before taking his leave.

It wasn't like the lessons with Bella. And Father didn't introduce them. Aiden touched his hair absently - blonde, starting to turn black. One hour must be up. He suddenly realised the nagging off-ness in Father's conversation with Mr Snape that he couldn't identify earlier was the mixed of mockery and vicious pleasure at… something.

Aiden watched Mr Snape sweep across the hall, his robes billowing behind him, and watched Father watch the man. It had been… enlightening.

"You don't trust him," he said when Mr Snape was gone. "Why?"

_Why choose him for this then?_

Father smiled at him and smoothed over his now-black hair. "_Because I have confidence in you_," he hissed.

"But I wasn't able to defend myself against you."

"I think because subconsciously you didn't want to block me and your magic responded to that wish. Severus is different because you aren't emotionally attached to him and instinctively want to block his intrusion into your mind."

"I thought it was because he's a worse Legilimens," Aiden said pensively.

Father laughed. "I believe he would be offended to be rated so by a child. But yes, you are right.

"However, there are few wizards well-versed in Legilimency and Severus is one of the better ones. It should be sufficient that you can defend yourself against him."

Aiden frowned slightly. "I don't want to be adequate. I want to be the best."

"Ambitious boy, aren't you?"

"Just like you, Father," he said artlessly.

"Indeed." Father seemed disturbed for a moment. "Very well, we'll continue our lessons."

Aiden smiled brightly and slipped his hand into Father's, a small, silent gesture of affection.

oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--

Thanks to all reviewers: Fluffylittledragon, Night-Owl123, Kage Mirai, Darkmoon Fleur, Miss Blizzard, Red Roses2, Shadowface (no pairings that'll involve Harry, at least not in this story, maybe in the sequel if I decide to write one), tati1, Emerald Tigriss, The Vampire Story Hunter, ladyraebef (it's only scary for prisoners since they get tortured and everything), SheWolfe7, SerpentClara, r (Bella's husband was killed in an attack by Aurors), egastin77, Yuikey, chozen1, Hell's Reaper, Fast-Talking Johnny (the Longbottoms aren't insane here), henriette (Aiden won't really leave, that's all I can reveal), diamond004 (Sirius will know eventually), Wanamaker, Magic-Elf (Harry will go to Hogwarts).

Sorry for the long wait. I had a bit of writer's block even though the chapter is all planned out. The occlumency part was especially difficult because I have to take care with giving clues and setting the base for future chapters. I think there may be quite a few unclear/ unfocused parts and I'll appreciate it if you can tell me how it is from a reader's POV.

Other thought and comments welcomed. Please review!


	10. chapter 10

"There's increasing reports of resistance fighters ambushing Death Eaters. I don't want them to become a problem."

"We've been working on it. It seems that some of them were Aurors who broke away from the newly structured Ministry," said Bella.

"And their leader?"

"We don't know yet but Dumbledore is probably involved."

"Of course. He's always involved, that meddling old fool.

"Get rid of them discreetly. I don't want any uprising to upset the new balance."

"Yes, my Lord," she said, but didn't seem inclined to leave just yet.

"Is there anything else?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"I was wondering if you intend to send Aiden to school when he turns 11," she said hesitantly.

Voldemort leaned back in his chair. "School yes. I just haven't decided which one. Perhaps Beauxbatons."

"Aiden doesn't speak French."

Voldemort was amused at Bella's objection, albeit a subtle one. "He'll learn. It'll be good to cultivate ties with other nationalities."

"Won't it seem like running from Hogwarts and Dumbledore when you reject the placing?"

Voldemort stiffened at the insinuation, and Bella seemed to realise her bad choice of words. "There will be no Hogwarts letter," he said coolly. "I've put an Anti-owl charm on Aiden. Any more questions?"

"No, my Lord," she murmured, and, sensing that she had overstepped her boundaries, quickly retreated.

He needn't send Aiden to school actually, since he's already well ahead in his studies. But Aiden needs to interact with other children his age, to learn to make friends, develop social skills and survival skills. He was too sheltered and Voldemort didn't want it to be his downfall.

Beauxbatons' a good place to start, being rather neutral in the war and wizarding politics. Aiden will be exposed to both sides of the issues there, unlike at Hogwarts where the whole atmosphere leaned towards Muggles and Mudbloods and Gryffindors.

As for Durmstrung, he didn't want to throw Aiden off the deep end of those treacherous waters so soon. The wrong information about the less favourable side of him could slip. Besides, it's too far from home. Maybe he'll transfer Aiden there after a few years, to let him get a feel of the different schools and culture.

Yes, Hogwarts can wait.

--oO--

It was a sort of birthday gift for turning eleven, he supposed. Eleven was special. Eleven was when he had to leave Father and go to school, meet other wizards and witches, be more independent. That's why Father allowed him two wishes, though he had called them 'requests' instead. Two was a weird number too, for wishes (or 'requests' as Father had said), but Aiden didn't care because he got to choose and two was enough…

"The meetings are quite boring really."

"Just let me sit in and watch for once. I'll be very quiet," Aiden promised.

"If you fall asleep and snore…"

"I do not snore!" Aiden said indignantly.

Father laughed and hissed, "_Does he snore, Nagini_?"

"_I will not be a part of your squabbles_," the snake replied, seeming amused.

"_What? Don't look at me like that. I may be domesticated but I haven't lost my sense of self-preservation yet._" With that, she slithered off.

Aiden folded his arms over his chest. "I do not snore."

"If you say so." Father has the most infuriating way of conceding arguments yet still seem to be able to imply the opposite.

"Of course," Aiden agreed blithely. "So when do I get to attend the meeting?"

After much concession on both sides, it was decided that Aiden would attend the next meeting in his invisibility cloak, accompanied by Nagini, and he would not do anything that would draw attention to his presence.

So that's why he's here now, sitting by Father's throne in his invisibility cloak, quiet as a mouse, occasionally stroking Nagini who was draped around the arm of the seat closest to him. The Death Eaters started coming in and Aiden watched them avidly.

All of them looked the same, hooded black cloak and bone-white masks a part of their ensemble, but the air around each varied. Some seemed more confident, their steps sure and unfaltering, but still respectful as they bowed to Father and waited for the rest to arrive. They did not fidget, did not flinch.

Others were more fearful, he thinks, their shoulders and back a little hunched to appear smaller and less noticeable. They were too twitchy, trying to hide their nervousness and failing. Still others had an air of eagerness about them, impatient to please, like adoring servants in awe of their master. Exceptions to this would be those who looked to have a penchant for cruelty, seeming almost hungry for an excuse to indulge.

Aiden shivered.

It's a good thing that he isn't the enemy. He wouldn't want to end up in their hands and at their mercy, those of the last category.

"_Cold, child_?" Nagini hissed.

Father looked towards Nagini, towards where he was.

"_No, I'm fine_," he hissed hurriedly. He didn't want to get thrown out before the meeting had even started just because he shivered and was thought to be cold.

"_Can you tell who are behind those masks_?" Aiden asked Nagini.

"_I'm only close enough to identify a few of those in the front_," she hissed, turning her head to the side, staring at some of the Death Eaters.

"… increasing attacks on Death Eaters by resistance fighters. Dumbledore..."

"_The one in the middle is Lestrange. Black is to her right, Malfoy, to her left. The spy is in the third row, behind Malfoy, and Macnair-"_

"… capture the attackers back for questioning if possible. Otherwise dispatch them without evidence."

_"And you know that just by looking?" _Aiden was impressed.

"…have gotten used to the peace bought about by the treaty two years…"

_"I know by smelling. Honestly, living with me for years and you overlook such minor things." _Nagini sounded just a little miffed.

"… time we actually bring some changes to the Wizarding World and its laws…"

"_Sorry. I was distracted and forgot_."

The Death Eaters were murmuring in agreement.

"_So what do they smell like_?" Aiden asked curiously.

"…are eager, but we cannot be careless."

Her eyes gleamed. "_Well,_ _Lestrange smells like Dark Arts and devotion. Black is tainted with dementors, an echoing emptiness with traces of suppressed anger." _

"… convince people of the rational behind these changes…"

_"Malfoy tastes like soft silk with underlying steel, and arrogance."_

"… minority will have no power to oppose the laws."

_"And the spy, he ranks of the potions you're so fond of tinkering with and damp dungeons air_."

"Make the Wizarding populace see that we've been right all along and there'll be no protests when we cleanse..."

"_What about me_?"

"_You?"_ Nagini flicked out her tongue. _"Strawberries and cream,"_ she proclaimed wickedly.

_"Nagini!"_

She was tickled by the exchange, producing a spate of hissing that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

_"As amusing as this is, do you mind continuing this elsewhere? You're distracting me,"_ Father hissed.

_"The meeting's over?"_ Aiden asked as the Death Eaters started leaving the hall.

_"I still have a few matters to settle."_

_"I'll go back first then."_

Father leaned back, pale fingers lazily sliding across Nagini's scales._ "I warned you it would be boring."_

Father was right. It was rather boring, but at least his curiosity had been satisfied.

_"Well, you wouldn't let me in before, so I thought I'd see what's the big fuss about." _

Father smiled. Aiden didn't really like that smileHe supposed that's because it's more of a 'Lord Voldemort' smile than a 'Father' smile.

_"Power. And politics. But I doubt you are aware of it."_

Aiden tilted his head to the side, thinking. He should have paid more attention to the meeting._ "Explain?"_

_"Later. Now be good and go with Nagini."_

_"Yes, Father."_

Nagini slithered off the arm of the throne and towards the wall at the end of the platform. Aiden glanced at the three Death Eaters left behind – Bella, Mr Black and Mr Malfoy; there's no need for masks among family.

Ministry business, he thought, as he walked through the wall, taking the secret corridors leading back to their rooms.

--oO--

Diagon Alley.

Aiden breathed in the clear air, relishing in the sights and smells of the busy street. Much had changed since he came here three years ago to get his wand. There were no more burnt or caved-in buildings, no more board-up shops; no more grey fog. People still seemed a little cautious but were no longer paranoid and fearful to be in the open. There were children, laughing, excited children, heedless of the strained smiles and wistful looks of their parents, tugging at them to hurry.

"Where do you want to go?" Bella asked, looking around.

"I want to visit all the shops."

"Well, that'll take a while."

She guided him with a hand on his back towards a shop – 'Slug & Jiggers Apothecary'. "The Apothecary," she announced sarcastically as they stepped in.

Aiden muffled a giggle and Bella raised her eyebrow, then her lips softened in a small smile.

Aiden wrinkled his nose at the smell, a mixture of rotten eggs and cabbages, or perhaps just hydrogen sulphide. He looked around and saw barrels of slimy stuff lined up on the floor. Bubotuber pus, frog brains, gillyweed, horned toads, horned slugs, leeches, tubeworms and some other gross but common ingredients in potions. Jars of all sorts of powders, herbs, and liquids lined the walls; bundles of feathers, fangs, and claws hung from the ceiling.

There was nothing unusual and he could identify most of the ingredients, having used them in potions before.

Something shiny caught his eye.

Moonstones. In a myriad of colours. Definitely prettier than its powdered form.

Few potions required whole moonstones though.

"Do you remember what they're used for?" Bella asked, picking up a clear blue one and turning it from side to side.

"A quiz, Bella?"

"Of a sort."

Aiden tried to recall. "Moonstone… balances emotions, restores harmony… has calming effects. Some calming draughts?"

"Draught of Peace," she said, replacing the moonstone in the clear cylindrical container. "Induces peace and calm but also makes one susceptible to suggestions in its hazy peace-induced state."

She smiled and continued, "Sort of like the Imperius Curse. Except it isn't illegal. Whole moonstones make it stronger because the effects are not dispersed."

"But it's not a dark potion."

"No. It just has the potential to be abused, like everything else."

"Of course," he murmured, "of course."

They moved on, visiting the cauldron shop, Eeylops Owl Emporium – 'that snowy one's beautiful'-, some magical instruments shop – 'fascinating!'-, Quality Quidditch Supplies – 'do you think I'll be good at flying?'-, Flourish and Blotts – 'can I get some books?'-, Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasion – 'erm, just looking. No, not shopping for robes, thanks.'-, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor – 'chocolate and raspberry ice cream with chopped nuts, please.'-, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Magical Menagerie – 'the snakes said they prefer live rats.'-, Gambol and Japes – 'nose-biting teacup?'-.

Aiden's face felt slightly flush, though whether it was from the laughing or from the sun, he didn't know. But it had been fun, and he guessed he wouldn't mind getting a little sunburned in the process.

"Where are we going now?"

"It's your choice: home or Knockturn Alley."

"Knockturn Alley," Aiden said promptly, not wanting to pass up an opportunity to explore the sinister alley, with its surrounding rumours of evil magic and monsters in the dark.

"I hope you don't scare easily. Some things down there are rather… macabre." Bella had that particular gleam in her eyes and a wicked smile.

"I'm not scared." He linked his hand with hers and smiled. "You'll protect me."

Bella laughed softly to herself, "And I'm supposed to be the damsel in distress?"

Faintly amused, she ruffled his hair and said dryly, "Fear not fair child. I will protect you with my life."

"Bella…"

But his protest of her mock dramatics was slightly ruined by the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Although it seemed to be an act, Aiden detected some truth in it and felt oddly touched.

"Hush, and stay close."

They wandered down the darker alley, Aiden instinctively moving closer to Bella. It was cooler, and more deserted. There were few street vendors, old witches and hags, peddling their wares, which ranged from whole human fingernails and withered body parts to… well, he didn't want to think about it.

"Pretty child, pretty child, won't you come and play?" came a high singsong voice. "Such pretty, pretty eyes you have."

Aiden tensed and looked around cautiously. The person sounded slightly mad.

"Don't bother us with your games," Bella snapped, though at whom, Aiden couldn't see.

"Ah, the Dark Mistress is here too. Is pretty child another gift for me?" she – Aiden was sure it was a she- was half-hopeful, half-gleeful.

Do they know each other?

"No. Now leave before I banish you."

"Mistress is in a bad mood, mistress is. Go, pretty child. We will play when we will play."

The lilting voice ended in laughter that echoed off the walls, and a faint shadow passed over them.

"Annoying, crazy harpy," Bella muttered, herding Aiden towards a door.

Aiden half-expected the door to creak ominously but it was well oiled and swung inwards without a sound. The lighting was dim, except at spots showcasing precious artifacts in glass cases.

A thin, slightly balding man approached them. "Good evening Mrs Lestrange. You looked well." His lips stretched to something resembling a smile. "And who is this lovely boy?"

Aiden suddenly disliked polite conversation. And the proprietor's fawning manner.

Bella inclined her head minutely. "Mr Borgin. We'll just be looking around."

Well, that was a way of saying 'it doesn't concern you'.

"Ah, feel free. If I may help by introducing a few of our more interesting artifacts and books-"

"We'll call you," Bella said smoothly.

"Yes, yes, of course. Excuse me then." He gave another false smile and disappeared into a corner in the back.

"Go ahead. I know you're dying to look around. Just be careful not to touch things."

Aiden nodded. It was common sense after all, since one can be jinxed or worse just by touching some cursed objects.

He saw a greyish wrinkled hand, dried and almost skeletal, with long fingers and yellowish nails. He moved closer. It was too detailed, too real, to have been an elaborately created item. A real human hand. He tilted his head. It moved. He blinked. The fingers… a little more curled now, almost seemed poised to pounce. He slowly moved away from the hand, keeping his eyes on it in case it really-

A breath of air tickled his ear, "Boo."

He whirled around, tensed. Then scowled when he saw who it was.

"Don't do that!" Aiden hissed.

Bella laughed. "I think you're more wary of the Hand of Glory than of Death Eaters."

He sniffed. "I don't know the Hand of Glory. I know Death Eaters."

"Oh, drop the haughty act. You're too sweet to pull it off."

Aiden sighed. "No one takes me seriously."

The corners of her lips curled, and her blue eyes glittered. "You say it like it's a bad thing," she drawled.

"It is."

Bella looked him over and murmured, "Pity."

Aiden suspected her comment wasn't meant for no one taking him seriously but for something else. "What?"

"You must learn to think in different ways," she said, and started towards the door.

Aiden followed, frowning to himself. Her answer seemed a bit irrelevant to his question. 'Pity' and 'thinking in different ways'… not such a bad thing that no one takes him seriously…

"I hate it when you talk in riddles," he groused.

"I shall get you a book of riddles for Christmas then."

"Bella!"

She laughed, and ruffled his already messy hair.

"For you." Bella handed him a small black box, smooth, with velvet covering. It reminded him of a jewelry box. Aiden gave her a questioning look.

"Why the sudden gift?"

Bella shrugged and said off-handedly, "For being a good student; for turning eleven; for going away to school."

Aiden gave her another look then opened the box. The gift obviously belied her careless attitude. It was exquisite – two thin silver chains when separate, twined around each other intermittently to form nest-like pockets that encased one selected charm each; the clasp was of a serpent, delicately carved, with emerald eyes, and animated, he realised, as a forked tongue flicked out, its head turning curiously towards him. Purple and black crystals set at the right and left positions nearest the clasp, and there were three miniature flowers between the crystals along the chain, one suspended in each nest-like pocket.

Amethyst and black onyx, Aiden recognised. But the flowers… one of them was curious. The small yellow, tubular flowers clustered in leaning globular flower-heads, and greenish grey leaves with fine, silky silvery white hair underneath was of wormwood; another – hardy stem and dark green, glossy leaves, deeply divided in palmate manner with flowers in erect clusters of a dark blue colour and purple sepals – was aconite. The last, set in the middle of the chain of charms, was a single trumpet shaped flower, showy like all lilies, except no lily he had seen before was white, with darkening blue tips, almost black at the ends, on alternating petals.

Mostly protection and calm, poison and invisibility.

Aiden looked at her and smiled, a warm feeling rising in his chest. "Thank you. It's beautiful. Can I wear it now?"

Bella tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "What's the use of a charm bracelet if one doesn't wear it?"

Aiden grinned and put the bracelet around his wrist. The snake nipped him; a flick of its tongue licked away the tiny drops of blood, barely seen. A soft white glow, and the chain was fastened, the snake sliding through the loop at the other end and biting its tail.

"This lily is special, isn't it?" he asked thoughtfully.

"It's a Portkey. Say toujours pur and it'll transport you to the House of Black. Beyond that, you'll have to do your own research."

"Do you have to be so secretive?"

Bella smirked. "Where's the fun if I provide you with all the answers?"

Aiden made a face. And almost didn't duck Bella's hand on the back of his head. His laughter was cut off by the sight of a dark figure hiding behind some crates down the alley.

"Bella-"

"Stupefy!" A bolt of red light flashed past them.

Suddenly there were more, three- no- four, slowly advancing.

"Imperio!" Bella aimed at one, and another, "Avada Kedavra!"

One rolled out of the way, barely avoiding the green curse, while the other started attacking his partner but was quickly disarmed and bound.

"Use the Portkey and go first, I'll-"

The fourth had disappeared-

"_Crucio_!"

She collapsed and screamed.

"Bella!" Aiden cried, horrified.

Break the curse, break the curse-

"Expelliarmus!"

The man seemed confused as his wand flew out of his hands, wondering who had disarmed him. Aiden then realised that he was invisible. It must be the bracelet. Belatedly, he cursed himself; the spell had just given away his position.

"Diffindo!"

Aiden ducked the spell. "Fernunculus!"

He quickly moved from his current spot to the other side, and watched anxiously as spells and curses flew back and forth, centering around Bella. Some were deflected or dissolved with shields while stray spells left scorched marks or ricocheted off surfaces. Aiden bit his lip. Three against one was too unfair.

"Imperio," he whispered, and willed the man to go and knock himself out against the wall.

Aiden crept closer, to get a better aim at one of the two left.

"That idiot won't stop-"

And everything went black.

oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--oO--

Thanks to all reviewers. Some of your comments really warmed my heart. ) : Night-Owl123, Amy (yes. a while more. no), Red Roses2, Shadowface (not really), ladyraebef (not impt.), r (turning 11. not much), chozen1, Fast-Talking Johnny (he acted strongly because he thought it's his fault that Father lost his beloved wife), Pandemonium Fox, omni (he won't. hehz), Lady Phoenix Slytherin, ManicReversed (sorry I don't really have draco in the plot. Will think about it), Asharia, Firestar038, Bilbo-sama, Spezlee, tinkita, japenese-jew (no, no, no gf), Xyverz, HecateDemorte, jouve25, yaukira, Clutchy, mysticruby, x-KawaiiCherry-x, Tarawen, Lerra, RealityIntrovert.

Thanks for being so patient though I really took a long time to get this chapter out. I think it's not as focused as the other chapters. Is the chapter too… frivolous?

Comments and thoughts welcomed. Please review!


	11. chapter 11

"Why the urgent message?" Voldemort asked, crossing his arms. He stared at her intently, his eyes narrowed. "And where is Aiden?"

Bella paled, and wet her lips. "He's not back yet?"

His face was set in stone, every word dripping poison, barely controlled, "What is that suppose to mean?"

Bella stilled her hands at the sides. "I- we were on our way back when four people ambushed us. I told him to take the Portkey back to 12 Grimmauld Place first, but couldn't find him when I got back. I thought he took the Floo here… I…" Bella dared not finish her sentence.

Her Master looked so cold, so angry, a quiet simmering anger that was worse than any violent outburst.

"You lost him. In an ambush."

"I- yes, my lord," she whispered.

"I trusted you with his safety and you lost him."

"I'm sorry, my lord."

A thousand apologies would not convey how sorry she was.

He strode to her and pushed her against the wall, one hand fitted around her throat, fingers pressing at the sides, the pressure slowly increasing.

"You will find him," he said softly, deceptively calm, "And bring him back. In 24 hours. Am I clear?"

"Yes, my lord," she choked.

He released her much like an unwanted rag doll, and stepped away, unruffled.

"Good."

She restrained herself from rubbing the marks on her neck and moved to the door. Her hand stilled on the doorknob, lingering hesitantly, and she looked back, searching the countenance of her master for something that will ease her mind, that this incident would not be the breaking point in their relationship, that she would still be the Dark Lord's most loyal and trusted follower. The firelight softened the sharp lines of his face, and his eyes, dark red, shadowed, looked less cold.

"Don't fail, Bella. I don't want to have to punish you."

She bowed her head, relieved yet feeling a strange ache in her chest at the same time. "Yes, my lord."

_I'm sorry._

* * *

They would not harm him, yet, drastic times called for drastic measures. But they would not harm him, yet, that old fool would not be above using him. 

He paced, small, sharp steps, angry.

How had a mere child become so important to him? Years ago, when he bought the child back, he had only seen a tool, potentially powerful, with a common gift for the serpent's language, like him.

Not the kind to be fond of squalling, bothersome babies, he had left Aiden's care to that woman, and later Nagini, when that woman died, mauled by a werewolf while trying to escape. It wasn't until Aiden started asking for 'Mama' and 'Papa' that he was persuaded by Nagini to spend more time with him.

Voldemort always thought toddlers were pesky things. Years at the orphanage had led him to detest them - their whiny attention-seeking antics, the slight red of cheeks as they screw up their faces in an impending caterwauling; they gurgle nonsense and fall all over the place trying to walk. Weaklings. He had no patience for them.

But the child as a toddler was curiously quiet, and bright green, eyes keen as he looked at him, unafraid, into his eyes, red, and grinned happily, holding out his chubby little hands, fair, delicate, calling 'Papa'.

He had been amused, this creature calling him father when he could easily crush him as he did his parents. But he didn't. Instead, he had picked him up, gingerly, because, he reminded himself, he distastes infants. And he had picked him up, in his arms, because Nagini made him promise to try to be nice. And the child gave that silly little wide-mouth grin as only silly infants could give, and his bright eyes stared and tiny hands tugged at his robes, once, twice, then leaned his head against his chest, and slipped into sleep.

Voldemort had no patience for weaklings but he found that perhaps, he could tolerate this one toddler.

So he tolerated.

Spontaneous hugs that the child was so fond of giving him whenever he visits, and kisses, dry, warm, and sweet, trusting, like its giver, loving, unlike its receiver.

Somewhere along the way, tolerance became amused indulgence.

A pat on the back or shoulder, a careless ruffle of messy hair, slight smiles as the child chattered about what he'd learnt that day and asked him about his day.

Unwittingly, amused indulgence turned to… fondness - the way one would be fond of a pet, he reassured himself.

Spending time by the fireplace in the evening, a warm quiet; carrying him to bed, a soft sigh; having conversations in parseltongue, a shared gift.

And the child became more than a sort of pet.

The child became his.

Tom Riddle as a boy lost too many things. Now, Voldemort keeps what is his.

And Aiden is his.

He stopped pacing, eyes hard.

They would not harm him. Or they will pay.

* * *

"Bella, why do we have tied-up guests in the parlour?" Sirius's voice became louder as he neared, his shadow rounding the corner of the hallway. He stopped and stared. "What happened to you?" 

"Ambush," she said wearily. "Mind if you help me send them over for interrogation?"

"Sure."

Sirius frowned. "Are you sure you're all right? Do you need anything potions or healing salves?"

"I'm fine. I need to go. There's something I need to do."

He touched her arm. "Get some rest first."

Bella removed his hand. "Tight deadline."

"I can help- "

"You can't." She gave him a small smile and closed her eyes as he kissed her cheek.

Sirius tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Be safe."

She nodded, almost imperceptible, and Disapparated.

The alley, when she reappeared, was not deserted. Knockturn Alley, due to the dealings and secrets it cloaked like a thief would his trail, is more alive at night than in the day. Unusual and more than somewhat illegal transactions were made, dark creatures roamed freely, and what seemed sinister in daylight only became more malignant by night. The dangers were not kind to outsiders who dared disturb the place but will let slide others it sensed as kindred. Survival of the fittest - the weaker ones always go first.

Bella hurried. There is no telling what could happen to a lone child in this place after nightfall.

The crates. It should be around this area that they were ambushed.

"Lumos Maxilum."

The whole alley lit up and Bella's eyes flicked over the area, looking for unusual shadows, a shadow of something that's not there, of an invisible person perhaps.

Nothing.

"Nox."

Aiden couldn't have been captured by those who ambushed them as all four men were caught. But he wouldn't wander off by himself either. Where does this leave her to search next?

Bella cursed under her breath. It didn't occur to her to put a tracking spell on the charm bracelet, 'just in case'. And 'just in case' just had to happen.

She cast another spell that would reveal magical auras to make sure she had not accidentally missed out anything or, in this case, anyone. A faint blue glow by the crates caught her attention. She walked towards it and the blue glow faded as she picked up a wand, Aiden's wand. And that's all there is. No white glow of a live wizard nor grey of an injured or dying one. Yet… a scratching sound made her look up and she saw an outline of green above the edge of the wall.

"Anaya," she said sharply. "I know you're there. Get down now."

There was no movement.

"I swear if you're the one who has taken the boy who was with me just now I will-"

"Oh don't get your hackles up Mistress, I haven't touched the pretty child." She flew down and landed softly, feathered wings settling back at her sides. "I haven't seen him since he entered the shop." Her reply was sweet, cloy.

"Why are you lurking around this area then?"

"It's a free world. I can go wherever I please."

Bella glared. "Don't try my patience."

"Lost the pretty child, haven't you?" Anaya taunted.

"Do you remember what happened to Elena?" Bella asked, twirling her wand. "All burst orifices and boiled blood, shredded talons and claws. I should hope you're not as ill-fated."

A long silence followed. Then came the sour reply, "The half-giant took him."

Half-giant. The only half-giant she knew was that bumbling what's-his-name who kept dangerous pets and defended them as harmless creatures.

Hajid, Hargy, Hargide – whatever – but it could only mean one thing.

Hogwarts.

* * *

His head ached, a heavy dull throbbing drum in the background of the fog of grogginess. Faint voices seemed to come from far away and bits and pieces filtered through. 

"… poor dear… traces of Unforgivable... knocked his head..."

"… be alright?"

"… minor scratches … concussion… won't know until he wakes."

He tried to open his eyes but sharp stabbing shards of light made him squeeze them shut again. Some beeping noise sounded and the conversation ceased.

"How are you feeling, dear? It's okay. I've dimmed the lights."

He slowly opened his eyes, and blinked, blinked a few times. It was white, the walls, the sheets, the clothes that the woman was wearing. Why was it so white?

The colours were supposed to be darker, richer, familiar, comforting… comforting – what was it? Blue? Yes, that's it - blue. Of course, he didn't ask why it was so white.

"Who are you?" he asked instead, half sitting up as the woman checked his health status by the coloured sparks that appeared after she said an incantation he didn't recognise.

"I'm Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse. You're at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hagrid," she indicated to the gigantic man standing at the foot of his bed,"found you unconscious in Knockturn Alley while he was returning. Do you remember what happened?"

What happened? He was with… it was… someone… why can't he remember?

"It's okay. It might take some time. You have had a nasty knock to your head. It might just be shock."

Yes, it must be shock, he thought, dizzy as the barrage of questions kept flooding his mind and coming up blank. He should know these things. Why don't he know these things?

"… your name?"

His gaze snapped up, focusing on the nurse's concerned face. His name? His name. Surely he knows who he is. A name. Some name. Nothing. He stared around wildly - the cream curtains, sunlight shining on the bed, white sheets, everything was wrong! He couldn't- there's nothing- he's-

"… panicking. Pass me the calming draught."

Someone stroked his back rhythmically, making soothing noises as another hand tipped cool glass against his lips. He choked on the burning liquid then swallowed. The warm feeling spread throughout his body and cooled to a distilled calm. His mind kept working on the questions but it was with detachment, as if the cord to his earlier panic had been cut, or suffused with the potion he drank.

"It might take a while to recover your memory. Get plenty of rest. We'll try to contact your family."

"I want Father," he said suddenly.

"Who is 'father'?"

"Father… I- " he shook his head.

"We'll try to find your father."

"Father will find me."

He didn't know why he knew that, was suddenly so sure of it when he can't remember much. The nurse looked startled by his matter-of-fact statement.

"Of course," she murmured. "Don't worry about it."

He smiled contentedly and lay down, closing his eyes as a sense of tiredness stole over him. Later, he dreamt, about blue pixies and black figures and snakes, in a hissing, laughing, fearful blur that would fade when he wakes.

* * *

"Hogwarts! And it's not like we can just waltz into that place to demand Aiden back" Bella paced agitatedly. 

"Bella darling, you're not thinking clearly. Calm down," Sirius placated, his hands on her shoulder to stop her from pacing.

"Tell me why we can't do what you just said," Sirius asked, looking at her intently.

"Master wants to keep Aiden a secret. Why do you think no other Death Eaters know about him? Dumbledore will get suspicious if we do that."

"Death Eaters have families too."

"Not unknown children who suddenly seem to materialise out of nowhere with no prior records or sightings. If they were to dig into it, the lack of background would be very suspicious."

"So what if they suspect? As long as we get him back, they can't do anything."

"La connaissance est puissance (knowledge is power)." Bella bit her lip. "I think Master should know about this before we do anything."

"Unless there is something to hide-"

"There _is _something to hide. Master won't say but I have a feeling about it."

Silence fell.

"Well, women know best, I suppose." Sirius gave her a grin. "Come on, chin up. We have a Dark Lord to meet."

"Sirius…" Bella protested, exasperated, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips as she followed, despite her worry about His reaction.

* * *

Thanks to all who reviewed; you made my day :) 

Comments and thoughts welcomed, especially on transition and flow. Some of this just feels off but I can't seem to put my finger on it exactly.

Please review!


	12. chapter 12

"Hogwarts," he said, staring at Bella.

She looked down. "The half-giant took him."

Half-giant. He thought for a while, the term prickling at his memory. Ah yes, the one who was expelled in second year.

Voldemort frowned. Aiden couldn't have been captured by that half-breed who had his wand broken and who can't even do magic. He taught him better than that. And he would not have left his wand lying around under normal circumstances.

He stared at the flames thoughtfully, the red-orange hues lulling. He highly doubted that Aiden would willingly follow a stranger. Either he was injured and couldn't fight back or the half-giant had help capturing him.

"Wait a few days," he said. "Find out what they know and how Aiden is. Then we will work on getting him back."

"Yes, my lord."

Silence reigned for a few moments and it was just the ticking of the clock that could be heard. A slight rustling of fabric sounded as tension grew in her frame, the waiting seeming endless as she remained poised, head bowed, for a strike against her. He should. She failed, after all. But the initial anger had worn off, replaced by cool logic and calm to go about rectifying the situation – and a slight gnawing pit in- he growled mentally and pushed that annoying thought away.

"I want information as soon as possible. You may leave… for now."

He's not in the mood for mind games and the warning served him well enough to let her know she's not yet off the hook. Not until the boy is back.

"Thank you, my lord," she whispered.

--oO--

He woke to darkness and sat up. It took a while to let his eyes adjust, making out the shapes of other beds, empty, and cupboards at the end. There's a dim source of light streaming a short distance beyond the crack of the door, and he moved towards it, bare feet padding across the floor. The door opened silently, leading out to a dimly lit corridor, the beige walls a more homely colour than the one he was used to. An image of dark stone walls with flickering lamps flashed through his mind. He shook away the tinge of cold that came with the memory and felt more optimistic that he would remember more of his past. Perhaps it was as the nurse said, just shock triggering a short-term memory loss. He had an urgent feeling to go back home, to check, to make sure that- that- he only knew he was worried.

He exited quietly, took a few steps then frowned, looking at his bare feet. He didn't mind carpets or smooth tiles but this rough surface was neither, and a bit gritty as well. His shoes should be around somewhere.

'Accio shoes,' he turned around and whispered.

He smiled as his shoes came to him without knocking into anything on the way, and slipped them on. He continued walking, randomly choosing a direction at junctions, going down staircases, peering curiously at the snoozing portraits and suits of armor, ducking into an alcove a few times to hide from the rare ghosts passing. The mansion had no ghosts, and even fewer portraits or ornaments to mark a particular corridor. If you knew where you were going, you would get there. If not, you could walk a thousand times through the same corridor and not know you were going around in circles, like a maze.

He noticed the beige walls and wide wooden staircases had become darker stone walls and narrower stone steps, the air getting damp and cool. A sudden movement of cloth around the corner caught his eye, and, curious, he followed quickly. Turning the corner, he found himself face to face with a scowling dark-haired man, bat-like in the way the black cloak wrapped around him.

"A little brat out of bed on the first night in school," he sneered, black eyes staring at him.

He took a step back as the man stepped forward, feeling threatened.

"Ten points off your house and a detention tomorrow evening at 7."

He looked at him blankly. What is he talking about?

His eyes narrowed, sweeping him from head to toe. "You're not a student, are you?"

He just stared at the man. There's something familiar about him.

"Infirmary clothes, must be that amnesic boy Poppy was talking about," he muttered. "Well, answer me boy. Or are you deaf and mute as well?"

"No, I'm not a student," he said, offended at the deaf and mute comment.

"Slow-witted brat," he said to himself.

"I am not slow-witted!"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Defiant as well."

"Who are you?"

The man pursed his lips. "I'm the school's Potions Master."

"Oh," he said. He suddenly remembered a bubbling cauldron, adding rat spleen, stirring the ladle, and a pretty woman with long black hair watching him. "I like Potions."

There goes that eyebrow again.

"What would you know about Potions?"

"Enough to brew a few without accident," he said slowly, assessing the validity of the statement as it passed his mouth. Yes, he's quite sure.

"Really?" Mr. Potions Master scrutinised him closely. "Must be pure-blood," he muttered. "You better go back to the hospital wing. Poppy will not be pleased to find that her patient has sneaked out."

He didn't quite remember the way back, having randomly chosen the path to wander.

Mr. Potions Master must have seen the uncertain look on his face for he sighed and snapped his fingers. A house-elf appeared.

"Master Snape is wanting something, sir?"

"Take the boy to the hospital wing."

"Yes sir."

With a 'pop', Mr. Potions Master and the dungeons had disappeared and he found himself back on the bed in the hospital wing.

He sat cross-legged on the bed and hugged the pillow to his chest, something nagging at the back of his mind. There's something about that man, like they've met before. A breeze blew in from a partially open window and he rubbed his left arm absently, which ended with him fiddling with the bracelet.

Bracelet?

He examined it closely. A charm bracelet. Curious that he had not noticed it before. He'd have to test out what it can do. And do some research. One of the flowers is unusual.

--oO--

"Morning, dear," the nurse said cheerily. "You feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you," he said, flushing slightly at the thought of his little panic attack yesterday.

She looked at his displayed health status and felt around the back of his head. "There's still a bit of swelling. Any dizziness or headache?" she asked.

"No," he said, looking at the scribbling quill writing on the clipboard with interest.

"Have you remembered anything?"

He turned his attention back to her. "A little. Some flashes of images but nothing concrete like names of people or places."

She smiled at him, pleased. "That's a good sign. Don't worry, it should start coming back slowly. We didn't know where to start searching for your family so we put out a person found ad in the Daily Prophet with your description. Hopefully someone will come forward soon."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, get some rest. Breakfast will be served soon. The Headmaster will be coming by later to see you about your arrangements while staying here."

He turned from a butterfly hovering near the window and said suddenly, "I'm tired of staying in bed. Can I walk around?"

The nurse looked over him critically. "Hmm, yes. I'll release you after breakfast. Some sunlight will be good for you. Far too pale."

"Hello, Poppy."

He saw an old man with flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.

She smiled. "Morning, Headmaster. I'll leave you with the boy then." She gathered her tray and clipboard and disappeared into a room off the other side of the hospital wing.

"Hello, my child," the Headmaster said kindly, settling into a conjured chair by his bed. "I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Hello, Professor," he said, put at ease by the Headmaster's grandfatherly air.

Professor Dumbledore smiled gently. "I'm sorry to hear about your circumstances, child. I suppose you will be staying with us until you recover your memory or until someone comes for you."

He looked down. "I'm sorry to impose, sir. If there is somewhere else I can go…"

Professor Dumbledore looked startled. "Oh, don't get me wrong, it's no imposition at all. What's one more child in a school already overrun by children, after all." His eyes twinkled mirthfully. "I was wondering if you would like to enroll as a student during your time here. You could make friends and learn magic."

It sounds nice. But he would need books and such, which he doesn't have, nor the money to pay for them. He bit his lip. It's not nice to owe people things.

"Is there another option?" he asked hesitantly.

Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows creased slightly then smoothed. "You could stay with one of the professors."

He didn't know any Professors. Well, except Professor Dumbledore. And Mr. Potions Master.

"We have to be accountable for you in some way," Professor Dumbledore explained.

"I understand."

The Headmaster was a stranger but he seemed kind. Mr. Potions Master seemed familiar but he had an unfriendly deposition. He had a feeling that the dour man would be rather unhappy to be stuck with him. But he liked Potions and will try to stay out of the way anyway. So…

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to stay with the Potions Professor."

Best to stick with the familiar. It might help him regain his memory faster.

"Professor Snape?" Professor Dumbledore asked, surprised.

"If that's his name."

Professor Dumbledore seemed even more surprised. "Well. Severus isn't a people-person," he said, "but I'll talk to him."

"Thank you, sir."

Professor Dumbledore rose, half turned to leave then stopped and turned back. "If I may ask, child, why did you choose Professor Snape?"

He tilted his head. "I'm not sure. He seemed familiar."

Professor Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "I see…" he said, then smiled, the sparkle back in his eyes. "Well, have a nice day. Professor Snape should be here for you within a day or two."

"You too, sir. Thank you again."

"You're welcome." Professor Dumbledore took out a golden pocket-watch, studied it for a while and put it back into his pocket. "I must go, before Poppy comes along and say that I'm disturbing her patient's rest."

He returned the Headmaster's smile, understanding all too well what he was talking about, having experienced the nurse's fussing and over-protectiveness towards her patients. He wondered why the man looked at a watch for so long though. Well, much longer than needed to tell the time anyway.

He sighed and leaned against the head of the bed and hoped that Professor Snape wouldn't be too mad.

--oO--

"What!" Snape paced furiously, his black robes billowing about him. "Albus, I have classes to teach, scripts to mark, potions to brew. I do not have the time to personally look after another brat, much less one who can't even remember his own name."

"He finds you familiar, Severus."

He sneered, "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Dumbledore looked at him calmly, his steepled hands resting in front of him on his desk.

"I have never seen the boy before," he grounded out. He hates it when Albus does that, make him feel like a schoolboy again, guilty of losing his temper and bad behavior.

"Perhaps he has seen you before."

"Or perhaps I just look like someone he knows. It means nothing."

"The child was found in Knockturn, Severus, injured and with traces of the Cruciatus Curse. Maybe he could use the help you give to your Slytherins."

The boy did seem to be from a wizarding family and he knew that some of the old still retain the 'traditional' notion of discipline. But he was not the only one who can deal with abused children, though he does encounter them more often than the other Heads of House.

"More likely that he got unlucky after deliberately losing his minders to wander into Knockturn," he muttered.

"Severus."

He ignored the reproach. "My Slytherins are different, Headmaster. I cannot," he stressed, "and will not, have a child living with me. Or have you forgotten about the Dark Lord?"

"He doesn't visit you in your quarters."

Snape glared at him for the poor joke. "That is besides the point."

"I'm sorry. I will get someone to look after him if need be when you are away."

He stared at Dumbledore. "Why are you pushing this for an unknown boy?"

Dumbledore sighed and leaned back, suddenly looking tired. "He… reminds me of someone."

"And?"

"There is no and."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Fine. I'll take the boy."

"Thank you, Severus."

He stalked from the room, fist clenched. Fine if he doesn't want to tell him.

Fawkes flew down from his perch and trilled a note.

"Yes, I know he is angry." Dumbledore stroked the phoenix. "I just don't want him to be biased against the boy by things that may not mean anything. Anyway he will find out soon enough."

Fawkes let out another trill and flew out of the window. Dumbledore stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the grounds and the Forbidden Forest beyond.

"Curious, isn't it? That I cannot pick up any surface thoughts from him," he mused.

--oO--

He looked up in alarm as the doors to the hospital wing swung open violently. Mr. Potions- Professor Snape, he corrected himself, stormed into room and headed straight for him. He should have known it was a really bad idea to choose to stay with the man no matter how familiar he may seem. Professor Snape glared at him.

"Get your things," he snapped.

Not cursing him was a good sign, he decided. He got up and took the set of clothes on the movable table near the foot of the bed. Madam Pomfrey had folded and placed them there, knowing that he would be leaving within the day or next.

Professor Snape stalked out without waiting for him and he hurried after him. They met some students along the way who cast curious glances at him but they quickly looked away at Professor Snape's foul expression. There were a few who greeted the Professor. All of them had green badges on the top right of their robes. He wondered at the significance, if any, behind it.

They had reached the dungeons and continued along the long corridor, passing several empty classrooms until the man walked through a part of the wall. He pressed his hand on the area cautiously, in case it's a barrier that will block him. His fingers passed through and someone pulled him in. Caught by surprise, he stumbled through, falling against the perpetuator.

He looked up and found Professor Snape scowling at him.

"I see you are incapable of even standing properly."

That was unfair.

"That's because you pulled me," he said, crossing his arms.

"I wouldn't if you had not been standing at the other side like an idiot."

"No one walks right through a barrier that they know nothing about."

"You're quite paranoid for a child."

"It's common-sense!"

"Well, pardon me for not informing you that the barrier is already keyed to let you through," Professor Snape said acidly, continuing down the corridor and not giving him a chance to reply.

It was not a concession. He sighed inaudibly and followed, determined not to let the man's condescension get to him. He hoped Professor Snape would not always be so difficult.

They stopped in front of a portrait of a young black-haired man in dark blue robes, a green snake with greyish-white markings draped around his neck loosely like a scarf. Its head hovered at the youth's head level and its tail was slightly curled, reaching halfway down the front of his robes.

"Hello, Severus. I see you brought a student," the youth in the portrait said, appraising said student curiously. "You never bring students to your quarters."

"He's not a student."

"An apprentice then? I didn't know your taste ran to young boys," he said slyly.

"He's an unfortunate responsibility the Headmaster tasked me with. Veritaserum."

"Well, aren't you in a hurry," he drawled. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

The door swung inward following that rakish comment and he heard another different voice, more sibilant, say amusedly, "Such suggestive comments in front of a child, Master." Puzzled, he followed Professor Snape in.

The room was done in earth tones, mostly dark brown and cream. Books filled the two shelves along the wall. The tea table and surrounding black couch and two armchairs were clear of any clutter. The mantle had no ornaments and there were few decorative pieces on the walls. It was all quite impersonal, giving a barely lived-in feel. There seemed to be no pictures or personal artifacts that gave hints of the professor's private life.

"Your room is the last one on the right. It is next to mine, which you will not ever enter without my express permission or you will regret it. Am I understood?"

He nodded under Snape's glare.

"I don't care if you are used to being picked up after by house-elves or nursemaids. I expect you to put everything back to their original position after use. And objects from these rooms are not to leave said rooms."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep yourself occupied and stay out of trouble or I'll do it for you. Any questions?" he finished imperiously.

Before he could bite his lip, he said, "Just one, sir. What taste was the portrait talking about?"

Snape's fingers twitched. 'That bloody portrait', he heard him muttering.

"That's none of your concern. Go to your room."

Never mind. He can always ask the portrait later.

* * *

Thanks to all who took the time to review. Sorry for the late update. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. 

Please review!


	13. chapter 13

My Lord,

There seems to be a disturbing development. I await further instructions.

Your most loyal,

Bella

He picked up the newspaper clipping that had fallen out, and scanned through it. His eyes narrowed at the description in the person found ad. Lost his memory? What is Dumbledore playing at now?

The old fool couldn't have known. Aiden was such a well-kept secret, even among his inner circle. But he must not dismiss the possibility. Dumbledore has the most annoying ability to piece puzzles together, linking inferences until they lead to fairly accurate conclusions.

He stared at the article again. If it was indeed true, he'd have to get Aiden out before they convinced the boy he's the enemy. He's fairly certain Aiden wouldn't turn on him but the truth may break him. He can't have a broken child, a weak link, so close to him.

He ignored the constriction in his chest at the thought of a broken Aiden.

* * *

The next few days were interesting. He wasn't bothered that the students had their own friends and classes to get to; he had the whole castle to explore and the freedom to do so without anyone breathing down his neck. He visited the library, amazed by the number of books and knowledge. He searched out house-elves and had afternoon snacks in the kitchen. He talked to the ghosts and non-teaching staff when they were free. So far he'd done a good job of staying out of the way. Professor Snape hadn't had a reason to be mad at him yet. 

Then he started to get restless. He missed having lessons, learning magic, being productive. He wanted to go home too, but nobody had responded to the person found ad yet and he couldn't remember much beyond his name and random images of places. A description of his room or Father's office was so not helpful in finding his family.

Professor Snape claimed to never have seen him before but he was fairly sure he had seen the man somewhere. Nothing to do except wait for news, he guessed. It's so… degenerating. He hoped a few of the nicer professors allow him to sit in on their classes. The rest of his free time, he could continue to research the flower charm that looks like a lily. He had looked through potions and herbalogy books but still found no reference to the strange flower. His next read would be Mystical Plants and Legends, Myths and Folklores.

Aiden settled at one of the study tables in the library and started browsing through the book, mostly looking at the drawings and pictures of the plants, hoping to find one that matched his bracelet charm, and occasionally reading the more interesting article.

"Hello. Do you mind if I sit here?"

Surprised, he looked up and saw a bushy-haired girl around his age. She was carrying a few books, almost hugging them to her chest, and a brown bag was slung diagonally across to her right.

"Go ahead," he said although he noticed that there were other empty tables around.

"Thanks," she said, putting her books and bag down. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"I'm Aiden," he said cautiously, wondering what she wanted.

"I see you in the library quite often but never see you in class nor in the Great Hall at meal times."

"Do I know you?" Aiden asked, wondering why this girl would be looking for him, noticing when and where he was and was not.

Hermione blushed. "No. I'm sorry. I'm just too curious."

"Oh. It's ok," he said. "I'm not a student."

She furrowed her brows. "Are you one of the professor's children?"

Unable to help himself, he laughed. "No. I'm waiting for my family."

"I see," she said.

But Aiden could see that she did not see and was probably bursting to ask more questions. He was glad that she stayed silent; it would probably be questions that he didn't remember the answers to.

"Don't you have classes?" he asked, hoping to get off the topic about him.

"I have a free period before lunch," Hermione said.

"Ok," he said.

An awkward silence fell. Aiden gave a small smile before returning his attention to his book. The spark in Hermione's eyes seemed to dim, and her shoulders hunched in imperceptibly before straightening again as she busied herself arranging books, parchments and quills in front of her, almost resigned or disappointed but was determined not to let it show. Briefly, Aiden wondered why she was the only one in the library during her free period, before lunch no less, and not with her friends.

The silence slowly settled into a studious quiet, with the occasional scratching of quills and rustling of pages, punctuated by Hermione's mutterings. About 20 minutes into it, her mutterings got increasing frequent until a final frustrated sigh made him look up. Hermione's hair, if possible, looked even more frizzled than before and there was a smudge of ink on her cheek.

Hermione caught his gaze and said, "I'm sorry. I get carried away sometimes. It's these transfiguration diagrams about alignment before transformation which Professor McGonagall mentioned in class, and I was trying to find the reference to its basis in arithmancy but we haven't learnt the basics yet and I'm unable to understand the explanation."

The last ended on a higher note and he looked at her curiously while faint pink rushed to her cheeks, perhaps from the lack of breath, he thought, until she averted her eyes, worrying at her lower lip then he realised it was embarrassment.

"Arithmancy is a third year subject," he said, "and the interdisciplinary aspects of arithmancy and transfiguration will only be covered from fourth year onwards."

Hermione's mouth opened in a silent 'oh' and he asked, "Which year are you in?"

"First year," she said a bit sheepishly.

Aiden smiled. "It's good to want to learn. But don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I'm just worried I'll fall behind."

The quiet admission sounded more than just a simple anxiety to do well in school.

Aiden tilted his head and she elaborated at his silent question.

"I'm a muggle-born. I didn't know anything about magic until I got my letter."

Ah… he understood the need to prove herself capable.

"Move over," he said, shifting his chair to sit beside her. "I don't much like doing theory but I'll help you."

* * *

"Good morning, Severus," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "I trust Aiden has not been too much trouble for you?" 

"Aiden?" Snape asked, wondering which one of his students that was. Must be one of the first years; it takes longer for him to match new names with faces.

"Yes. You know, that boy living with you?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Oh, that Aiden," Snape grumbled, his mood turning sour at the reminder of the boy he was babysitting at Dumbledore's insistence. Then he frowned, realising that he had not seen the boy all that much the past few days. There has been no complaints from Filch or the other professors so he guessed the boy was at least keeping out of trouble like he told him to, but what has he been up to?

"Is something wrong?" Dumbledore asked upon seeing his frown.

"Nothing. I'd better check on the boy," Snape said abruptly and left.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore murmured, his blue eyes twinkling madly in contrast.

* * *

Unfortunately he'd overestimated the time he had before his next class and had to make his way to the Potions classroom instead of his private rooms. He certainly could not leave the Gryffindor and Slytherin third years without supervision, especially the Weasley twins. 

The class quieted as he swept in.

"Pepper-up Potion," he said curtly. "Instructions are on the board. Ask me now if you don't understand."

He paused, waiting for questions.

"Very well, I shall expect to have no ruined potions nor accidents today. And I don't want to hear chattering among you. Get down to work."

Some of the students started towards the potions cupboard to get ingredients that weren't in their potion kits while others began preparing ingredients and setting up their cauldrons. Snape walked around, looking out for mistakes and excessive communication beyond what was needed between partners to complete their potion.

"Mr Weasley! Throw that beetle eyes in Mr Pucey's cauldron and you'll be having detention for a week."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir. Just happen to pick up the wrong ingredient that's all." Fred grinned.

Snape glared at him. As if.

Knock, knock. "Professor Snape?" A mob of black hair peered in from the door, entering the room fully when he saw him. "Professor Dumbledore said you were looking for me, sir?"

And the elusive brat reappears. Snape resisted the urge to sigh.

"Yes. Sit down. Do not touch anything. I'll talk to you after class."

"Yes, sir."

Aiden took a corner seat one row behind the two redheaded boys – twins, he thinks- and set about watching the students brew their potions. He watched Professor Snape too as he stalked about, often snapping corrections at mistakes and sometimes giving curt nods to those on the right track. Aiden sighed. He missed Bella.

"Hey firstie. In trouble with Snape so soon? What did you do?" one of the redhead whispered, slicing the daisy roots into small equal parts.

He looked at him, then at Professor Snape who was at the other side of the classroom helping a blond girl. "I don't know."

"Well, cheer up mate. His bark is worse than his bite," the other redhead said, stirring the potion anti-clockwise.

"Yar, but you didn't hear it from us." The first boy winked.

"I'm not- No! Don't put the rat's spleen in yet!"

But it was too late. The potion started to turn purple and bubbled ominously, frothing increasingly closer to the rim of the cauldron. Aiden hurriedly grabbed some fluxweed and threw it in, hoping it'll be in time to stop the impending explosion. He relaxed as the mixture's bubbling quieted and the froth gradually sank down.

"You're supposed to put in the rat's spleen after taking the cauldron off the fire. That could have been a nasty explosion," he said.

The twins blinked.

"Saved by a firstie…" one of them said, shaking his head.

"Looks like our potion is ruined, brother mine," the other said mournfully.

Aiden sighed. "It's not completely ruined."

He stirred three times clockwise and twice anti-clockwise, added a pinch of powdered bicorn horns, stirred once clockwise, followed by two sprigs of nettles. The colour of the potion gradually returned to green as he stirred anti-clockwise seven times.

"Simmer for four minutes, take it off the fire and add rat's spleen. The potency won't be as strong because of the bicorn horns but it's still usable."

The twins looked at him, then turned to each other. "Did we learn this in first year, Forge?"

"Can't say we did, Gred."

Both of them turned to him and said, "Are you sure you're a first year?"

Aiden took a step back. "Err… I'm not a student."

"Well, that's one mystery solved-"

"-but doesn't explain why he was able to salvage our potion. Nevertheless-"

"-we are most grateful to be saved from detention and-"

"-extend our most humble gratitude. Fred-"

"-and George-"

"-at your service should you need cheering up,"

"-mayhem or-"

"-distraction for the professors," Fred finished with a flourish and both twins bowed.

Aiden could only stare, feeling dizzy at the verbal tennis-match-like switching between the twins as they completed each other's sentences.

"Mr Weasleys! Your potion will be ruined if you continue with idle chit-chat."

The twins winked at him and turned back to their potion.

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "I would appreciate it if you do not distract the students from their work, Mr Aiden."

"Yes, sir," he said. So far for trying to help.

* * *

The students had packed and rushed out as soon as the bell rang, leaving him and the Professor. Aiden had caught some pitying glances from the Gryffindors and some smirks from the Slytherins. Fred and George smiled encouragingly as they left, Fred- he thinks- slipping a note into his hand. 

"What have you been up to for the past few days?"

"I was exploring the castle, sir," Aiden said.

"In future please let me know your whereabouts. The headmaster can be most annoying if he thinks I've been remiss in babysitting you."

Aiden looked indignant. "I don't need to be babysat."

Professor Snape gave him a look that said 'as if I want to baby-sit you'.

"As that may be, a child running about the castle with no supervision may unknowingly get into trouble. There are vanishing cupboards, come-and-go rooms and trick steps. You could be trapped or hurt for days if no one knows you are missing."

"Fine."

"That is all. You may go."

Aiden got up and paused, remembering something. "I have a request."

Professor Snape looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"May I sit in on classes?" he asked hopefully. The lack of intellectual stimulation was driving him crazy.

Professor Snape started gathering the scrolls of student essays. "If today's behavior is an example of what will happen if you sit in on classes, you may not."

"I wasn't distracting them. They were the ones who started talking to me," Aiden protested.

"Childish excuses. You may not sit in on my classes and that is final."

Aiden stared at him, turned sharply and left, resisting the urge to slam the door on his way out as he muttered about the unfairness of the situation. He should have ignored the twins and let their potion explode and coat the classroom in smelly, slimy, purple substance.

Stupid overgrown bat.

* * *

He entered the Great Hall, and was rather overwhelmed by the crowd of milling students, chattering, laughing, whispering. Aiden started as a pair of arms slung themselves over his shoulders on each side and looked up to find the twins grinning at him. 

"Aiden-"

"-mate, hope Snape-"

"-didn't chew you out-"

"-too badly for helping-"

"-us. Come on, sit-"

"-with us for lunch."

And they guided him towards the long table filled with chattering students with red and gold badges on their robes.

"Do you two always talk like that?" Aiden asked.

George grinned. "Of course not. But it's fun."

"Yes, I can see how it might irritate some people," he said dryly.

Fred laughed and clapped him on the back. "Let me introduce you to everyone. That's Lee, Alicia and Angelina."

Aiden smiled and said, "Hello."

George said, "This is Aiden, the non-student who saved our potion."

Alicia leaned forward in interest. "But you don't look older than twelve."

"I was home-schooled."

"So are you joining Hogwarts this year?" Lee asked, helping himself to a serving of roast chicken.

"No, I don't think so."

"Where are you staying if you're not a student?" Angelina asked curiously.

"I'm staying with Professor Snape."

Lee choked on his pumpkin juice. "You have my sympathy man."

All of them nodded in commiseration. Aiden was still feeling resentful after the stupid overgrown bat's unfair refusal and didn't feel like defending him. He gave a vague nod and the conversation lapsed until Fred said, "So, do you play Quidditch?"

Aiden shook his head and said, "Never even flown before. Not sure if I'll be any good."

"Never flown before?" The twins looked scandalous at that admission, turned to each other and gave the same slow nod after a moment's silence. "We shall have to correct that immediately."

Judging by the wicked grins on their faces, he's about to find out how good or bad he is on a broom.

* * *

Aiden eyed the rackety broom dubiously and looked at the twins' grinning faces, wondering if they were playing a prank on him. The broom looks like it's going to fall apart, much less being able to support his weight mid-flight. 

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," he said, backing away.

"Come on, it's not as bad as it looks- ok it is as bad as it looks but it will still be able to fly."

"Somehow I'm not feeling more reassured."

Fred laughed and slapped him on the back. "Ok I'll go first."

He swung his leg over the broom and took off, flying a few rounds above them and touched down.

"See? I'm still in one piece. Come on, just place your hand over the broom and say 'up'."

Aiden did that and the broom immediately rose to meet his hand. George adjusted his grip slightly.

"Now straddle the broom and slowly tilt the handle upwards. Not too much-"

But it was too late and Aiden yelped as the broom shot forward.

"Hold on tight, we're coming to get you!"

He held on tightly to the handle, heart thundering at the shock of adrenaline rushing through him, feeling the wind against his face, made colder by the speed at which he was cutting through the air. He turned his head and saw that the twins were not far behind him.

"Look out!"

Aiden turned and swerved to the right, barely managing to avoid getting hit by a buldger as it zoomed past his cheek.

"You've got good instincts," George shouted, grinning.

Aiden glared at him. "It's not funny! Where did the buldger come from?"

"Slytherin seems to be having quidditch practice." The twins hovered in the air beside him, looking to their right. One of the burly boys holding a bat spotted them and gave a particularly wicked smirk as he pulled back his arm in a ready batting position.

"And I think they're taking us for tar- Duck!"

The twins rolled upside down on their brooms and waited for the buldger to pass. When they came up again, the space between them was empty.

"Where did Aiden go?" They looked at each other, puzzled.

Alicia's panicked scream drew their attention downwards to a black blur of robes rapidly nearing the ground in a steep dive.

"Aiden!" The twins sped after him, even though they knew they won't be in time to do anything, they still had to try before their new friend gets plowed into the ground.

"Pull up the handle! Pull up!" Fred yelled frantically.

30 feet away from the ground, 20 feet, 10- his mom is going to kill both of them- 5- he closed his eyes and flinched, preparing for the impending sound of impact.

It never came.

Instead, laughter and hysterical screaming met his ears. Ok, the hysterical screaming was easily identifiable as Angelina in indignant mother-hen mode whenever they did something dangerous to make her worry like mad, but the laughter... He blinked and saw Aiden flying around them, cheeks flushed, laughing like he just discovered a new exciting toy.

"That was so fun!" he exclaimed, hovering upside down in front of the twins.

The twins looked at each other, and started to grin.

"You're brilliant!"

"But the girls are-"

"-going to kill you."

"Uh oh, and Professor-"

"-McGonagall too."

"Mr Weasleys! Get down here immediately! And your friend too."

"Are we in trouble?" Aiden asked softly as they descended.

"Don't worry, let us handle it." Fred winked.

Professor McGonagall surveyed them sternly. "Who did the dive? Do you know how reckless it was? Pulling up only 5 feet from the ground. No wonder the girls were screaming their heads off."

"Sorry madam," Aiden said quietly, head slightly bowed.

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened. "Was it you?" she said incredulously then glared at the third years. "You know that first years are not allowed on a broom without proper supervision."

"Well," Fred coughed, "technically he's not a student, right Aiden?"

"Uh, yes I'm not really a student," he said, when George nudged him.

"Hmm..." Professor McGonagall peered at him over her glasses, "You're the boy staying with Professor Snape."

"Yes madam."

She straightened and looked all of them over. "It still doesn't excuse your behavior."

"Well, Aiden hasn't flown before and we thought we'd let him try it and there won't be a problem because we're in the Quidditch team and have sufficient experience-"

"First time on the broom!" Professor McGonagall spluttered. They winced. Fred glared at Alicia who mouthed a sorry.

"Detention! All of you!" she glared at them, then added as her gaze fell on Aiden, "You too."

"Me?" Aiden asked, confused. "But I didn't know the school rules."

"The detention is for your reckless behavior," she said and stalked off.

"What did I do?"

The girls rounded on the clueless boy and yelled, "You scared us half to death with that dive!"

The grinning twins ignored the girls, slung their arms over his shoulder and led him away, chattering animatedly, "The wronski feint was perfect! Ever thought of becoming a seeker? Why don't you become a student and join the Gryffindor team? Yar that would be great! Then we can..."


End file.
